#how to record pictures in notes

[sicksweetcreamy]

COSMODE Wormlotte Hand Puppet prototype complete! Google Translate was a lifeline, not that that meant I hadn't run into steps I had trouble figuring out. But I'm glad I was able to finish it!

[the-physicality]

welcome to all star. i am officially *adding* my team USA hat to my team phoenix mercury hat

[cherrygirlfriend]

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ heart-shaped cut-out

pairing: nerd!rafe x pervert!reader synopsis: reader shows rafe her new lingerie warnings: smut, masturbation (f), sexting MDNI! wc: 700 a/n; i saw the new skims heart cut-out lingerie and it was so cute i had to write something about it!! anyway it’s another completely new fic, my neighbors are partying on a tuesday but this is for my nerd!rafe girls.

masterlist ♡ pervert!reader masterlist

you opened the package you'd ordered a week before, your eyes widening in glee when you got a peek of the baby pink fabric. you clapped your hands together, carefully lifting the bralette, admiring the little heart cut-out in the middle. when you'd seen it, you immediately knew you had to have it.

it took about five minutes until you were out of your clothes and changed into the adorable lingerie set, laying on your bed as you twirled your hair biting down on your lower lip as you sent a text to rafe.

YOU: i know we're supposed to meet up in a few minutes for tutoring, but i wanted to ask if you wanted to see some new clothes i got 🥰

you rubbed yourself through the pink fabric of your thong as you waited for him to reply, looking through pictures of rafe, the fabric forming a slight wet spot while your breathing got more erratic, especially when you landed on a picture you'd sneakily taken of his hand while he had been writing down notes. but when your phone finally pinged and the notification came up, you couldn't help the mischievous grin that took over your lips.

RAFE: Sure 😊

you opened the camera app on your phone, starting to record a video. you looked at the camera, biting down on your lip with a smile, before bringing it down to your chest, cupping and squeezing your breasts. your nipples were hard and pebbled through the fabric, and you let out a soft laugh.

you slowly panned it down to the thong you were wearing, showing off the damp patch on it, but now, instead of rubbing yourself through the fabric, you slipped your finger through the heart-shaped cut-out until it met your clit, causing you to let out a slight gasp. you circled and rubbed your clit, letting out small moans for the camera, your thoughts on rafe and the reaction the video would get from him.

after a few minutes had gone by, you dipped your fingers inside of you, gathering some of your arousal and taking your hand out of your thong, showing your fingers off to the camera.

"fuck, 'm so wet..." you moaned, before stopping the video. grinning, you pulled on a sweatshirt that was lounging next to your bed, taking a picture of yourself wearing it.

you went to your messages with rafe, proceeding to send the video you'd taken, keeping your eyes on the screen, waiting for the little 'read' receipt to appear, and it took a few minutes, but once the little grey text appeared, you sent the picture of you in the sweatshirt.

YOU: oops, i sent you the wrong thing, meant to show you the sweatshirt 😅 i'll be in the library soon!

you pulled on a pair of low-waisted jeans, making sure they showed off a sliver of the pink fabric, and even though it took you ten minutes to get to the library, rafe's face was still flushed, and there was still a bulge in his chinos.

"hope i didn't take too long." you said with a coy smile, pulling back the chair and sitting down next to him, more than pleased with his reaction.

"n-no... it's all good..." rafe mumbled, looking down at his textbook. you stretched your arms over your head, letting out a feigned yawn, rafe's eyes zeroing in on the small amount of skin peeking out under your sweatshirt, the boy letting out a breath before clearing his throat, and you immediately knew he'd seen the thong you were wearing, the soaked thong you’d rubbed yourself through.

"so." you turn to him with a bright, casual smile, biting down on your lower lip in the same way you had done in the video, acting like you weren't getting off on knowing how much he wanted you as you tucked a strand of hair behind your ear before bringing your hand down to rest on the table, touching his just a tiny bit, and even the minimal contact caused his eyes to widen.

"what are you gonna teach me today, rafey?

[tqlepatia]

HEADCANONS | SEVIKA × SLEEPY! WIFE! READER

notes : lol sorry for the long wait, i tried to make it quite long :3

content : pure fluff, the tittle it's self explanatory

You fall asleep in the car every time. Doesn’t matter if it’s a five-minute drive or an hour. Sevika drives with one hand and rests the other gently on your thigh, rubbing circles while you snore softly.

She’s found you asleep on laundry piles, the kitchen table, and even half off the bed. Instead of waking you, she just makes sure you’re warm and safe and takes a picture for her private album.

Sevika secretly times in her mind how long it takes you to doze off during movie nights. Your record is 52 minutes into the film.

You always insist you're not tired. While yawning and curled up in a blanket. Sevika raises one brow: “Sure, babe. Wide awake.”

She loves it when you nap on her chest. Your breath warms the space right over her heart, and she swears nothing calms her nerves like that.

Sometimes you fall asleep mid conversation, You were talking about how hard it was to make a perfect cake, then your voice went slower and lower till the room was in silence. Sevika just chuckles and finishes your sentence for you before covering you with a throw blanket.

She’s developed the stealth of a trained assassin. Walking around the house in near silence to avoid waking you, especially if you’ve been having light sleep.

You always nap after meals. Sevika picks up your empty plate, kisses your forehead, and whispers, “I’ll clean up. Just rest.”

She adores your sleepy voice. That soft, raspy mumble when you call her name with your eyes still closed makes her melt instantly.

You cling to her like a koala in your sleep. Sevika has mastered the art of staying still for hours just so you can rest peacefully.

You fall asleep in public. she just places her hand on your thigh and keeps talking like nothing happened.

She has to carry you to bed most nights. And she pretends to complain, but you catch her smiling every time, remembering how she walked with you in her arms the day of your wedding

You fall asleep while waiting for her to get ready for work, and she sneaks back to the room just to watch you rest ( she tells silco she's reaaaaaly sick that day just to get a whole day with you ).

When you nap on the couch, she watches over you like a guard dog. Anyone who even thinks about waking you up will get the glare.

You sleep with your hand on her chest or stomach. She won’t move a muscle until you shift first.

She has a soft spot for how you mumble her name in your dreams. “Vika…” and she’s feeling her cheeks hot in the dark of the room..

She keeps extra blankets everywhere. One in the car, two in the living room, one folded on her office chair, just in case her sleepy wife gets tired again.

She’s tried to tease you about how much you sleep. But you looked at her with half-lidded eyes and said, “You love it,” and she couldn’t argue.

Sometimes she wakes up in the middle of the night just to watch you breathe. Then, she kisses your forehead and goes back to sleep.

She’s your favorite mattress. Even in summer, even when it’s too hot, your head always finds her chest or thigh.

You always nap in her worn out T-shirts. Sevika pretends not to notice—but she keeps giving you more of them.

You fall asleep face down during massages. Sevika kisses the back of your neck, adjusts your pillow, and keeps rubbing your back until you start snoring.

Your naps are sacred to her. She rearranges her schedule so she can hold you when you need rest.

If anyone jokes about how much you sleep, she’ll glare at them. “She works hard. Let her rest.”

When you fall asleep in the bath, Sevika gently scoops you out, dries you off, and tucks you in like you’re made of porcelain.

She loves coming home to find you curled up on the couch, book forgotten in your lap. It makes her chest ache—in a good way.

She memorized your sleep patterns. She knows when you’re dreaming, when you're restless, and how to soothe you without waking you.

You always fall asleep first, but wake up with Sevika already watching you. She greets you with, “Hey, sleeping beauty,” and kisses your temple.

When she’s away on business, she knows you have trouble sleeping. So she adopted a fluffy pet for you. It's not the same as her cuddling you, but it works.

No matter how many years pass, she never gets tired of watching you sleep.

౨ৎ - 𝐓aglist ; @prettyinpink69 , @abbysdollie , @marieeeluvsyou , @littlelovelunette , @madzorwhatever , @zvmbitegirl , @salsalsusu , @katarandaa, @starrycherie , @moonshimegf , @watermelonshine, @zombieeepup, @laviannasfanfics , @windytulips, @genderfluidlesbain999 , @dulcerbbns

[kquil]

JAMES POTTER | BOUDOIR PHOTOSHOOT

sum. : you have your bridesmaids show James, your, now, husband, polaroid samples from your boudoir photoshoot on your wedding night while you enjoy his reactions from afar

quick note : boudoir is a photography style showcasing sensual, romantic and even erotic images of the subject person. It showcases and celebrates the person's beauty and sexuality.

tags. : marrying james potter ; fluff ; kinda spicy ; you have the best bridesmaids ; inspired by a tiktok ; james is the perfect man for you ; wedding day! ; james loves your body ; no mentions of specific body type; james can't wait for his wedding 'night' ; shy reader shows her wild side~

length : 2k

navi. | more james potter

In preparation for your wedding day, you participated in a boudoir photoshoot. You were marrying the man of your dreams, the most perfect man for you, James Potter. It was your way of expressing your love, to show him how confident and beautiful he made you feel. Not a day goes by without him whispering an affectionate ‘I love you’ into your ear or expressing how beautiful he finds you despite the imperfections you nitpick along the lines of your body. He doesn’t let your toxic, self-deprecating thoughts linger for long; he loves every beautiful inch of you and he’s not afraid to show it, especially when you make love together. He loves you unconditionally and makes you want for nothing more in life. With him, you’re always content. 

This was a thank you to him for loving you so wholeheartedly and to showcase the beauty you were able to find in yourself because of him. You worked with your bridesmaids to pick out the perfect set of lingerie to wear for the photo shoot and had the most amazing photographer guiding you throughout. She was the perfect balance of encouragement, support and positive energy. And she was so respectful too. You were always the shy type so the beginning was quite wobbly but you eventually found your flow and it ended on such a high note. As promised, she created a beautiful photo album of the pictures you approved and made small Polaroid samples of the ones you wanted your bridesmaids to ambush James with on your wedding night. 

The shoot was weeks ago and now you were on the evening of your Wedding day. Everyone was dancing around, having a fun time, James’ close friends were a good level of tipsy with several of the guests congregating around the wedding live-painter to admire her work. It wasn’t ready yet but you made sure to check on her and keep her well-fed throughout the night; she was a guest too and was doing something incredible for your wedding, it was the least you could do. 

You fondly eye James as he dances with your family, a bright smile on his face. You still remember walking down the aisle, smiling at him as he wipes at his eyes, sniffling wetly at the sight of you but he was grinning the entire time. Neither of you has stopped smiling the whole day, you believe. It really was the perfect wedding.     

“Are you ready, Mrs Potter?” Lily whispers teasingly, trying to suppress a giggle as she flattens a Polaroid sample of your boudoir shoot to her chest. Your other bridesmaids, Marlene, Mary, Dorcas and Alice have also come to surround you, mischievous grins on their faces as they each tightly hold onto a Polaroid sample, making sure that it wouldn’t be seen by anyone but the intended target by holding it close to their chests. 

Biting your lip, you temper a wide grin and nod. They squeal and turn to one another with a buzz in their veins, “Just like we planned ladies,” Alice giggles before they all nod and split up with Marlene heading straight for James. You don’t know what photo any of the girls have but Lily informed you that they formed an order from least to most scandalous. It was devious but a good plan. You move to stand in view of James so you can see his reaction to each photo from afar, the girls also hold up their phones to record his reaction from up close so they can send you the video later on. 

James was dancing along happily, not having drunk a single drop of alcohol as he wanted to savour every moment of his wedding ceremony. He wanted to remember everything! He was also pretty sure he didn’t need alcohol to feel drunk, the electric feeling in the air was all he needed to fly high above the clouds. He’s never been so happy his entire life; he married the woman of his dreams and she let him give her his last name. He feels complete. And he was still riding that high when Marlene came up to him with a Cheshire grin on her face. 

“Yohooo~ Jamsiekins!” James rolls his eyes but smiles at her nonetheless.

“Yes, McKinnon?” a small bolt of worry flashes through him, “Is my wife okay?”

“She’s perfect! She actually wanted me to give you a present~” James raises a brow and tries to look for you in the crowd but is unsuccessful when Marlene steps closer, her phone raised and flips the Polaroid that was pressed to her chest at him. He gives it a brief glance, barely registering the image before going slackjawed and doing a double take. The second time, he looks at it longer and with wide eyes, wanting to imprint the entire image into his brain. 

“So beautiful…” James trails off, staring longingly at the image of you in a see-through nightgown leaning against the windowsill with your hair beautifully done and your beauty on show under the gentle sun. He stutters in place when Marlene flips the Polaroid again. He looks at her like a hurt puppy, “Is th-that for me? C-can I keep it?” He reaches for the Polaroid and thankfully, Marlene surrenders it without a fuss. He grins and kisses the photo before tucking it into his blazer's breast pocket, “Thank you~” 

“Pleasure doing business with you, Mr Potter,” Marlene salutes him with two fingers before marching off to pull Sirius away from the buffet table and onto the dance floor. James chuckles at her antics before looking through the crowds until he meets your shy eyes. His gaze softens with affection at your bashful demeanour and he sets out a clear path towards you. 

But he’s stopped by Alice who has another Polaroid and also has her phone raised. She, too, shows him the Polaroid of you, this time laid across a bed and sweetly looking into the camera at your side with a hidden smile, a lacy, see-through slip dress draping over your figure. His eyes linger on the curve of your spine and the perfect roundness of your butt. He can make out the small, lacy set you wear underneath and he swears he’s found heaven on earth. His hands immediately go up to cover the Polaroid from both sides as he bites his bottom lip to suppress a feral scream. 

“God, I’m so lucky…” he looks up at Alice from behind the camera, which perfectly captures the lovestruck look in his eyes and the soft blush on his cheeks, “That’s my wife…she’s my wife” he sounds breathless and giddy, making Alice laugh before surrendering the Polaroid. She sends you the video of James before looking for Frank and silently wishing the rest of the girls luck. 

James quickly puts Alice’s polaroid into his breast pocket too and returns on his path to you. But he barely makes it two steps forward before Lily ambushes him with another Polaroid and a phone to his face. He wants to smile like a madman but his dropped jaw makes it too difficult. He immediately snatches the photo and cradles it preciously, admiring your beauty once more. You’re scandalously raising your nightgown to showcase your cute, lace panties, a matching garter belt and thigh highs as you innocently look at the camera with glossy, smiling lips. 

“Ho-ly. Shit…” he swallows hard and begins to pant like an animal in heat, “Oh my– fuck!” he holds the Polaroid to his chest with reddening cheeks and wild eyes. He sags comically, dramatically showing how he’s close to collapsing on the spot. He’s seeing an entirely new side of you, not that he’s complaining, he just wasn’t prepared. A feral, primitive instinct builds up from within him. He desperately fights it and the urge to savagely take you in front of everyone, “She’s trying to kill me! This isn’t fair! She’s so sexy!” Lily giggles maniacally at him and pats his shoulder as if to wish him luck and James both dreads and is excited about what may come next. 

He’s soon stopped by Dorcas. This time his brows fly up to his hair line and he forgets to breathe. His hands instinctively shield the photo as he bends down to observe the small image so closely his nose touches the film. He pulls back and releases a heavy breath before leaning in again with the same shocked but appreciative look on his flushed face.

“Woah!” he looks around frantically as if he’s doing something he isn’t supposed to do and looks at the picture of you for a third time, trying hard not to groan at the tightening in his trousers. The image is of you from behind, draped over a decorative vintage sofa with your ass in the air, there’s no see-through nightgown, only a red lacy number with a garter belt and thigh highs. He berates himself for the dirty scene that flashes in his mind; he’s perfectly positioned behind you, his hands gripping your hips as he grinds his— 

“Keep it in your pants,” Dorcas laughs at him as she walks away, her phone still raised at him. 

“You’re not making it very easy for me!” James huffs in mock anger, hastily pocketing his fourth Polaroid that night.

When Mary comes up to him with the same routine, James doesn’t know whether he groans from suppressed excitement or dread at making a fool of himself in front of you for a fifth time. He knows you're watching him and seeing his reactions closely from the videos the girls were taking. And, although he wants to be a gentleman, you’ve always gotten such a big reaction from him over the littlest things, it’s only natural he gets worked up over scandalous images of you too. 

This photo of you was the most scandalous and immediately stole James’ breath away. It’s a top-down view of you on a bed with half-lidded eyes, your bra unclasped and in the process of slipping off if it weren’t for your arm coming across your chest to stop it. The position, however, only further accentuates your cleavage and his eyes linger on the delicious sight for an embarrassingly long time. Your other hand reaches down and fingers just beneath your panty line, a suggestive action he desperately wants you to recreate for him in private later. You looked ripe and ready to be eaten alive and James would gladly jump at the opportunity. It’s the perfect snapshot of you just before he devours you whole. The photo has him reaching to unbuckle his belt but he resists and snatches it up instead, panting like a dog with a wild glint in his hazel eyes. “This better be the last one of my wife or else I’m punching a wall,” Mary shakes her head at him with a laugh, “it’s not funny! I’m going crazy!”

With a wink, Mary confirms that it’s the last one and tilts her head in your direction. Without wasting another second, James rushes to you, his beautiful bride, dressed in white. It was the best day of his life but he wants it to hurry up and be over already so he can finally have you to himself. All polaroids are tucked safely into his inner blazer pocket as he wraps you up in his arms and buries his face into the junction of your neck and shoulder. “I’m going mad over you, love,” he voices with a hidden growl to his voice, kissing and sucking at your exposed skin, whilst desperately breathing in the fragrance of you. You’ve never seen him so… animalistic before but it lights a fire inside you that you happily fall into.

“Wait until you see the whole album~” Your comment has him shooting up, away from your neck and leaning into your face. The feral look in his eyes is unmistakable as he whispers against your lips. 

“There’s an entire album of you looking like that?” 

“Yes~ And it’s all for you~” James almost faints on the spot. 

navi. | more james potter

a/n : for those curious, this is the tiktok it was inspired by hehe~ this was a little nsfw but i hope you darlings enjoyed!

[fishyfishyfishtimes]

Daily fish fact #6 444 205

Fish!

The fish like to have a little drink :) Sadly as they drink the water around them they also drink their own pee, and that is the curse that they will have to live with for the rest of their life

#fish #fishfact #fish facts #fishblr #biology #zoology

( 2 notes )

🪼 clovergonads follow

Tasseled wobbegong women >>>>>>>>>>>

🐸 i-eat-skin follow

bitch those are goosefish

( 27,196 notes )

🐚 seashell-on-the-seashore follow

Say what you want about fishblr updates, but I think this format for reblubs is a wonderful improvement over the previous one. One of the only times staff did good.

🐚 seashell-on-the-seashore

@featherstar53 If reblub chains got too long, new reblubs would start appearing as darker and darker until you couldnt see the text anymore. It mimicked how light disappears as you go deeper in the ocean but the sunken code this webbedsite runs on never set a cap for how dark it gets, so eventually you would have to copy ad paste the text on the reblubs onto somewhere to read them.

🐍 swamplamprey follow

It sounds fake but it's true! You can still find some older fishblr post screenshots with this effect:

This even went for full abyssal mode users! In their case, the text would slowly turn from white to dark blue, effectively making it impossible to read against the black background.

🦞 fastest-claw-in-the-west follow

I think it would be super funny if they brought this back but for individual posts. Like the reblubs stay the same colour but the posts themselves get gradually and gradually darker until you can't see them anymore lol. It would be disastrous but also funny and it might finally stop some of you frys from being so addicted to this webbedsite

#im all for a bit of chaos lol #treasure trove: talking tag

( 730 notes )

🌿 invertlike-behaviour follow

Okay for the record. My eyes are Red because I'm a COMMON ROACH! RUTILUS RUTILUS! It's not because I smoke seaweed!

🌿 invertlike-behaviour

Okay Yes I smoke seaweed all day. But the specific reason my eyes are red is Not That

( 104 notes )

🦈 spiritually-placoderm follow

🫧 surgeonsturgeon follow

OP you forgot brackish water and the option for inhabiting both

🦈 spiritually-placoderm

Shut your inferior ass mouth up

🫧 surgeonsturgeon

#(i couldnt find the actual gif i wanted to use but this weird tiger shark will have to do) #(not sure why his fins look like that)

( 1,020 notes )

☀️ slenderfish follow

"ocean sunfish have over 40 parasite species" factoid actualy just statistical error. average ocean sunfish is infected with only one or two parasites. Parasites Georg, the mola who suffers from every ailment known to fish and has over 1 000 000 000 parasite species infesting his flesh and organs, is an outlier adn should not have been counted

( 193,239 notes)

🪷 trout-about-you follow

Selfieeeee :3 (ignore the two sea lampreys attached to my flesh)

🪲 toebiter follow

how did you take the picture you aren't holding your phone

🪷 trout-about-you

The sea lamprey on the left took it for me

( 58 notes )

🔲 salmonidae-supremacy-deactivated

FISH USED TO MIGRATE THOUSANDS OF MILES TO BREED. WHAT THE FUCK IS THIS!!!!

IN MY DAY PUSSFISH LIKE THIS WOULD GET EATEN ALIVE BY REAL RIVER MONSTERS FOR BREAKFAST.

🐟 darting-action follow

these are Siamese fighting fish bruh.... They don't have migration as part of their life cycle lmao

🔲 salmonidae-supremacy-deactivated

OF COURSE THE YOUTH CAN'T PUNCTUATE THEIR SENTENCES PROPERLY. I SHOULDN'T EXPECT SO MUCH FROM THE SOFT FRY THEY ARE. ALWAYS GETTING RILED UP!

🔲 skip-hopper-deactivated

Ignore this guy, @darting-action. He's well known for saying offensive nonsense like this, I think he's bait and trying to get someone to bite.

🔲 salmonidae-supremacy-deactivated

YOU MUST BE ONE OF THOSE INBRED DOMESTIC SCUM OR HATCHED YESTERDAY SINCE YOU ENTIRELY LACK THICK SCALES. I SPEAK THE TRUTH AND ONLY THE TRUTH. IF YOU GET TRIGGERED THEN THAT'S NATURAL SELECTION, SON. YOU SHOULD FIGHT ME IN REAL LIFE.

🔲 walrus-tits-in-my-mouth-deactivated

You really dont know a thing about natural selection, do you? Bettas have flashy fins because they have to seem threatening to possible competitors. They don't migrate so they aren't built for that. They're built for living in ponds and marshes, low oxygen environments, and by cod, they are built for fighting territorial battles! You shouldn't underestimate a fish literally called fighting fish. They're very tough and hardy fish and can even send larger fish fleeing!

🔲 salmonidae-supremacy-deactivated

SIAMESE FLAILING PUSSFISH HAVE LADY FINS BECAUSE THEY'RE WEAK AND SOFT AND HAD HUMANS DECIDE WHO THEY BREED WITH FOR THEM. THEIR QUOTE UNQUOTE "FIGHTING PROWESS" SURE DIDN'T SAVE THEM FROM BEING PRISSY LITTLE PRINCESS FISHIES FOR LITTLE KIDS DID IT? THE INDUBIDABLE FACT IS THAT THEY'RE MUSKIE FOOD.

🔲 iknowthecrabbypattysecretformula-deactivated

Wait a minute... I recongize that picture on the right! That's from @betta-than-this 's OnlyFins! How did you get that picutre hmmm? Salmonidae? How on Ocean did you gain access huh?

🐠 betta-than-this follow

"Indubidable" is a pretty specific word to use. This you @salmonidae-supremacy-deactivated?

🔲 iknowthecrabbypattysecretformula-deactivated

LMAOOOOOO GOTTEMMM!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

🔲 aquarium-life-deactivated

HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA

🐟 darting-action

woag i never saw this entire chain before until it hit me on my dashboard. Why does this have so many notes

Thanks fishblr user walrus tits in my mouth for biology info i didn't know

🫖 burgle-the-turts follow

Woah woah woah we're just gonna ignore this guy using p*ssfish as an insult!!???? THE CATFISH SLUR????????? No one is going to bring this up!!!!!???????

🔲 tilapia11128-deactivated

does anyone in this thread smoke seaweed

🌊 herringageposts follow

date of origin: 28th of august, 2017

( 392,229 notes )

🟧 sponsored

Suffering all alone, handsome?

No need to anymore.

👄 pollywannacracker follow

Reblub with your favorite snack in the tags! I’ll go first: coral polyps! :}

🚬 shark-noir follow

@ninjalantern-999

#as for me #my fave is definitely my lower set of teeth when they shed #crumchy :D

( 295 notes )

🩸 must-lunge follow

HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA STUPID HUMAN DROPPED ITS ELECTRONIC CAMERA IN THE LAKE!!!!!!!! NEVER GETTING THAT BACK BUB!!!!!! I'M TELLING ALL MY ISOPOD AND MUSSEL FRIENDS AND THEY'RE GONNA LIVE INSIDE IT!!!!!

🧑 official-human-posts follow

ofishal human post

#ofishal human post #this post contains humans

( 891 notes )

🦦 hellofromtheotterslide follow

Wait, how come this site is called fishblr and not something like oceanblr or aquablr? Wouldn't that be more inclusive?

👑 goldielocks follow

I believe the name "fishblr" pays homage to the meaning of the word where just about everything in the water was considered a fish. It's why we have words like "shellfish", "whalefish", "jellyfish", "starfish".

Personally aquablr would work really well, too. There's a sizeable amphibious userbase on here.

🦐 worldwideshrimp follow

You forgot whale shark! Those arent fish either but are called fish

👑 goldielocks

....Whale sharks are fish. They are sharks. It's in the name.

🦎 eye-of-newt follow

But I thought it was a whale named after sharks? WHALE shark! Why else would they put whale up first?

👑 goldielocks

A whale named after a shark would be called a shark whale. You can take one look at a whale shark and see that, with its gills and fish tail, it is a shark.

⚪️ number1-seacucumber-ass-enjoyer-77 follow

Wait, then what about baby whales? Are those whales named after babies?

👑 goldielocks

If you're talking about the actual whale babies, then yeah. If you mean the mormyrids, small aquatic animals that can sense electricity, then no, those are fish. Sometimes names are inaccurate to what the animal really is.

🌌 themanta1234 follow

If you think about it, fishblr is also inclusive to aquatic tetrapods since they are lobe-fins, and therefore fish :D It's a term that can include everyone on here, the perfect catchall!

🦑 abyssal-gigantism follow

Ewwww fuck that definition. If mammals hear about them being fish on some sort of """"technicality"""" then this webbedsite is gonna get flooded with those self-important idiots! "OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOOOOO LoOk At MeEeEeEeEEE i'M a MaMmAL!!11!!! I TAKE CARE of mah BAAABIEEEES!1111 I'm SUCH a good MAMAAA!!! All those OTHER STUPID HEARTLESS ANIMALS could NEVER do as I DO!!! I LOVE sweating into my BAABIEEEES' MOUTH1!1!1!111!!! I'm FLUFFY and AWSUM and ERRYBODDY LUUUVSSSSS MEE!!!!!!!!!!111!!!!!!! You should all LUV me TOO!!!!"

Is THAT how you want every fishblr post to look!!!!??????

🦛 drippohippo follow

😨

🪄 magicmanatee45 follow

DD:

🎼 humpbacked-musician-offishal follow

:'''((((

🐋 blainvilles-bitch follow

🕶️ egg-laying-mammal-of-action follow

:///////////

🐢 greenXD follow

i think jellyfish shouldn't be classified as fish because they're clearly living spaghetti

🌜 foolish-idol follow

Great fucking post everyone. Hit the air bubblers

( 60,376 notes )

🟩 ultrahyva-heihoi follow

Guys what the fuck kind of sponsors does fishblr have I just saw an ad for having parasites housed in me who are they advertising to 😭💀💀

#i swear the quality of this site keeps going down and down #if you see ads for parasites then report the shit out of em #fuck em my friend got early onset cataracts due to parasites

( 4 notes )

😃 doweopenandcloseourmouthtoday follow

Yes! :) :O :) :O :) :O :) :O

[ybklix]

𝒊𝒏𝒕𝒐 𝒚𝒐𝒖 ⊹ ࣪ ˖

۶ৎ giving your boyfriend a gift that will help him in his long and lonely nights when you can’t be there for him. ⋆˚࿔ pairing: idol bf felix x fem reader

cw: mdni, smut, softdom felix, masturbation, fingering, teasing, overstimulation, sextape, sextoys, slight dirty talk, pet names, cunnilingus, unprotected sex, backshots, creampie.

wc: 7.3k

｡°❀ 🫧 into you by ariana grande ‧ꕤ.ﾟ🫧 good for you by selena gomez ｡°❀ 🫧pornstar by nessa barret ‧ꕤ.ﾟ🫧

𝑚𝑎𝑠𝑡𝑒𝑟𝑙𝑖𝑠𝑡 .𖥔 ݁ ˖๋ ࣭ ⭑ 𝑡𝑎𝑔𝑙𝑖𝑠𝑡

wen’s note: im delulu rn, I love my man :3 !! sorry (a freshly cooked fic—that hasn’t been in the drafts for monthssss, enjoy) + im backkk yassss:)

It’s your last day. The last day the two of you will be together, physically, for a long time. In a few hours, very early in the morning, you will take a flight back ‘home’ —if you can call home wherever Felix isn’t with you— and you will feel nothing but sadness and emptiness. You just know that days are approaching when a video call with him is what keeps you happy.

Your love life with Felix is facing another challenge: overcoming the distance between you. You don’t usually complain much about it, as you don’t want to be a burden to Felix, constantly complaining how much you miss him when he has to go far away, doing what he is most passionate about in the world, you know how much it means to him to be on stage, so you shut up all the whims you think because of the huge need to have him next to you all the time. So sadly, it’s just your last day on your quick visit, and, as much as you’d like to be there for him, going from city to city, country to country on his tour, you both have your respective lives. It was so painful just thinking about when the next time you will be able to see him.

So, you just decide to enjoy every moment together, trying not to think about the cruel reality that is approaching. Tonight, you are about to go out, taking advantage of the fact that it’s Felix’s short break and his concert is tomorrow. So you’re getting all dolled up, trying a soft and subtle makeup, pretty enough to take pictures with your boyfriend and calm your hair as best as you can, while choosing a cute, modest and inconspicuous outfit, since you’ll be wearing a cap anyway, because you have to go incognito all the time with Felix, plus Seungmin and Jeongin would join your date, just to have them as the perfect excuse if someone recognizes your super star boyfriend, so their eyes would go to the super star trio and not you and Felix only.

Night is just falling, painting the sky a beautiful color and reflecting in the huge window of the hotel room. Felix is face down on the bed, using his brand-new cellphone, relaxed and happy, waiting for you to finish getting ready so he can call his friends and go out to explore the city.

“Wow, baby, the quality is insane.”

You hear Felix say, happy and excited, followed by the sheets shifting, indicating that he has stood up. You come out of the bathroom, with a smile as you put on your earrings and see your boyfriend, standing in front of the large window filming the view with his cell phone.

“Really? Let me see, love” you reply, moving closer to him.

As soon as Felix hears your voice and senses your presence, he turns his body with a tender smile and records you approaching him. Felix seems to be happy with the gift of his new cell phone, which he made a whole advertising campaign for. He records you standing in front of him for a few seconds, and then turns his body with his device towards the cityscape behind the window. You crane your neck to see the screen, but you turn your attention away when you see how cute your boyfriend looks, his tender smile and his carefree no-makeup look perfectly highlighting the smoothness of his skin with his visible freckles. You said nothing more than a simple:

“I’m almost ready… just let me put on my setting spray and gloss. You can call Seungmin and Jeongin already if you want.”

Felix keeps recording, motioning his arm gently, he gives you a quick glance along with a smile as a sign that he heard you, and you walk to complete your look so you can stroll with your boyfriend, one night before you leave and not see him for a month.

“Oh, almost forgot!” Felix exclaims, he stops recording and puts the cell phone back in his pocket quickly; you turn to look at him, confused since he got your attention. “I’ll help you pack so you don’t come from the date doing it.”

“Oh, Felix, you don’t have to…” you comment sweetly, touched that he feels he has to help you with everything.

He doesn’t listen to you, and you watch him tenderly take from one of the bedroom chairs the Louis Vuitton travel bag in its classic, signature print that he gifted you, and places it on the bed.

“It’s okay, it’s okay, sweetheart. Go finish getting ready, I’ll help you with this real quick.”

You chuckle softly, and in less than two minutes, you’re completely ready. You approach your boyfriend, playfully and plop down on the bed, close to him and your bag, as you watch him tenderly folding your clothes that were lying on the bed and arrange them inside the bag.

“I’m ready” you say, with a sigh.

The truth is, you don’t want the day to go on as it means it’s getting less and less time before you have to go and leave him.

“I’m almost done, princess. You look beautiful, by the way” he replies, focused on your clothes.

You let him do it because you know he’s a bit stubborn, and then he’d go and complain to you that you need to get your act together. You watch him, nonchalant, in no hurry for him to finish, staying with him like this, even in the silence, feels so good, so right, and calm.

Felix can’t help but blush, though, realizing that this is the fifth set of lingerie he’s had to pack for a trip you’ve only been with him for three days. So he jokes a little with you about it.

“Mmm… you kind of packed a lot of lingerie, don’t you think, princess? I’ve seen more pretty panties than blouses of yours.”

Felix raises his gaze, watching you with a playful, suggestive look and a mischievous smile as he carefully folds one of your blue panties, a part of the full set. You smile broadly, you can’t help it, still feeling a smoldering embarrassment with mischief.

“I know. I’m sorry… I didn’t know which one was the best, so I brought several options.”

“Whatever you wear looks beautiful on you” he whispers softly, causing heat to your cheeks.

Felix takes another pair of cheeky panties and spreads them out, teasing you with a smirk.

“Can I keep one?” his eyebrow twitches, cheekily.

“Felix!” you laughed, your eyes widening in surprise and playfully snatching the garment from him to drop it into your purse, your cheeks burning hot, as if he hadn’t seen all of you before. “The boys are going to think they’re your panties... but it’s okay, you can keep them, you’re the one who buys them for me, anyway.” You tilt your head, “Do you want something sweet to remember me?” you joke, teasing him.

He laughs, licking his lips, staring at you as he instinctively bites his bottom lip. “Which one will you wear tonight for me, huh? You have plenty of options, doll…. You should have modeled all your options for me, I’d have loved to see that.”

His voice sounds rough, a confession somewhere between a joke and a tone of absolute truth. You know perfectly well how much he loves to dress you in pretty lingerie, tease you in it and then end up naked, or just fucking you with it on. Felix stops his action, waiting for a response from you, but with the intensity of his gaze, you were already short of breath. There is a feigned innocence in his sweet face that contrasts with that look and soft grin you know so well. He is trying to start something.

“I can do it tonight… but can you handle it?” you raise your eyebrows, subtly teasing him further.

Your intentions are not to start something sexual just now, you were just about to go out on the town… two of his best friends are waiting to be given the signal to go out the four of you… but the way he smiles, superficially running the tip of his tongue across his lips to then catch his muscle between his teeth, is giving you another kind of impression... A subtle, cheeky, kind of dirty impression.

He looks at you for a few seconds, doesn’t respond, and lowers his gaze back to your clean clothes, ready to pack, and that’s when you notice his true intention.

“Oh look at this one, it’s too pretty, why didn’t you wear it for me?”

Felix changes the subject, still using his flirtatious and suggestive tone. You watch his hands take from the small pile of clothes a tiny piece of clothing, a white thong so sheer it covered practically nothing and, he subtly shows it to you.

You feel warmth in your cheeks again. Somehow you find it slightly embarrassing when he shows it to you like this, so suddenly. But what’s slowly ruining it for you is knowing exactly what your boyfriend wanted.

“Although I confess… there’s not much to wear with this so small” he laughs, examining the garment.

You watch your boyfriend’s face, his gaze lingering on that garment you packed when you thought of him, when you thought of all the nights you couldn’t be together and how much you wanted to make up for all that time. The shame leaves your body as you notice how obviously excited Felix is now, you know him so well, despite him wearing an oversized shirt, you can notice so clearly the change in his breathing, the change in his gaze, his more serious expression.

He looks back at you, almost guilty that his thoughts have been discovered and you find his reaction adorable, quickly looking away from you and sighing subtly in halting breath as he puts the thong in your bag, pretending nothing happened.

You examine him. The silence speaks for itself, in a way it’s loaded with adorable tension, because you love him too much, because you know what he wants but you both don’t know how to say it… at least the first few seconds. You smile happily, thinking it’s cute that he’s most likely already hard from just imagining you in that little garment… and you find it ridiculous… because Felix had you right there, now, in front of him, willing and madly in love with him, if your boyfriend wants to fuck you right now, he can. Now, while he still can.

“Felix” you call his name softly.

Now you’re the one looking at him intently.

“Mhumm?” he hums softly, unable to look you in the eye.

It’s true. You know him so well. Felix is terribly and helplessly aroused. Just with the power of his thought, with your closeness, with the intoxicating smell of your perfume that drives him crazy… at the same time he is just as, if not more, sad than you as he tries to pretend that everything is fine, but he is going to miss you deeply. Not seeing you until further notice… until you both can match… is killing him alive.

“You want me to wear it… for you?”

“Wear what, my love?” he pretends not to know, but his erection grows each time in his pants.

He doesn’t know what he’s thinking clearly… maybe that he’ll just get over the feeling, that he’ll be fine and have you all to himself after your nice date. But who is he fooling, he is never casual about you, neither takes you lightly. You on the other hand, know exactly what state his body and mind is in… but you can’t confirm it due to the bag blocking your view of his bulge a bit.

“The… thong you said was pretty.”

You feel slightly embarrassed. You find the word thong immaturely amusing.

Felix dares to look at you, notices the seriousness of your face, your cheeks slightly pink naturally beyond the blush you’re wearing. So what if you both want it? He’s your boyfriend and can tell you anything with confidence. Still, he responds demurely:

“Yes, when we come from the date. You’ll look beautiful in it.”

Felix flashes a smile and remains determined to finish your travel bag. You find it nerve-wracking, for a few seconds, as you’re getting impatient… and slightly horny at the thought of tasting your boyfriend right now, right there.

“Are you okay?” you ask more curtly.

He nods, making a nonchalant grimace. You can’t believe it.

“Yeah, why wouldn’t I be?”

Your smile widens, more brazenly. You don’t know if he’s tentatively playing with you, faking that innocence so he can get closer to you.. either way, it’s already starting, you can feel it in the air, it’s undeniable, deep and tangible.

“Because I think you got so worked up from just imagining me in those panties… do you want me to wear them for you, right now, baby?” you drop, slowly and seductively.

A sultry voice and piercing gaze that made Felix shudder and swallow nervously. Felix’s breath shortens, and his world stops for a second, and the silence speaks for itself once again. No matter how many times he makes you his, each time it impresses him and sends his feelings into overdrive as if it’s the first time he’s going to touch you; he adores you with that intensity.

“C’mon, baby, you know you can take me right now if you want. I’m always ready for you” you almost beg.

The corners of his lips quiver at your confession, trying to contain a flirtatious, nervous smile of utter glee. This time, he’s really playing with you as he says more confidently, trying to keep his sanity.

“No, love… I don’t know what you’re talking about, I’m fine.”

You raise your eyebrows, incredulous, inviting him to keep challenging you.

“Oh yeah? Then stop that and call Seungmin and Jeongin already to leave, now” you mention, more impatient, challenging him.

Felix runs his tongue along the inside of his cheeks, amused, finding it amusing the way you’ve figured him out, that you’ve won, that you know exactly his next move, it’s obvious he can’t do it, he has an uncontrollable erection caused by you. You take your garments from his hand, approaching him slowly and dangerously, finally pushing aside the bag, in effect revealing the noticeable bulge in his shorts.

You smirk nervously, watching his notorious erection and then directing your gaze until you fix it on his eyes, his nice, dark, big eyes, changing in seconds, from soft domination, to needing to be touched.

You move closer to him without standing completely, dragging your bottom across the bed until you are finally facing him, his vulnerable aroused body, his bulge in front of you, begging for your strokes and attention, causing in you the sweet throbbing of your sex, your body rushing rapidly, heart pounding, breath hitching and the sublime, dominating sight of your aroused boyfriend clouding your judgment, your judgment to keep your temper.

“Well… you’re indeed fine…” you look down at his bulge brazenly and return your submissive eyes to him, your mouth salivating loudly, “But what kind of girlfriend would I be if I don’t take care of my needy boyfriend?”

He gives you a half smile and strokes your hair with his right hand gently. You place your hands on either side of his thighs and bring your face close to his body, close enough to brush against his erection, teasing him, tensing him, raising your gaze to convey to him through your gaze all that you may be capable of right now. You maintain eye contact, your body squeezes his erection tighter, causing him to bite his lip hotly, holding in a moan… You are both being painfully patient with each other; it kills you in a way that is both ardent and pleasurable at the same time. His grip on your hair becomes more consistent, heavy, and intense. You let your chin rest on his abdomen and your hands seek to caress his thighs, finding the feel of his cell phone in his pockets. You’re so fucking turned on that anything slightly incoherent would come up in your mind.

You smile mischievously, in the way only Felix knows, in the way that brings out your deepest, hottest side that he knows as a map by heart. You pull away from him, grab his cell phone out of his pocket suddenly and wiggle it in your hand; your boyfriend looks at you in confusion. Felix knows you so well that, in his voice exquisitely thicker, and excited, than usual, he murmurs a soft,

“What’s on your mind, my pretty baby?”

He watches you from above, gently lowering his head to look at you because of your angle. You find him so fucking attractive, every faction of his face, of his agitated body trying to appear to be at ease, you suddenly needing him so badly that you could suck him off right there, suffice it to just pull down his shorts and underwear. But no, your heat was so intense that, with intense joy, your boyfriend’s new cell phone in hand, your core throbbing and your heart pounding with aggression, you said almost passionately:

“Is the quality that good?” Felix squints his eyes, inviting you to continue, still not fully understanding your idea, but extremely immersed and excited at whatever it is. “Why… don’t you put it to the test one more time…. By recording something so exclusive to you… Something to help you, Lix. Why don’t I give you something for when I’m not there for you? Who’s going to take care of you after all the euphoria you experienced on stage, huh? And you have to go back to your lonely, quiet hotel room...”

“Y/n…” he whispers, confused, breathless, almost in a soft moan, still letting himself be carried away by your words that sweetened and shivered every inch of him.

“Record me, Felix. Do it for the nights when we can’t be together.”

A sextape. The idea warms his virile, weak body wrapped in desire and love for you. Nudes… are a bit of a touchy subject, as you are somewhat paranoid, you live in fear that for some reason they might hack you, and Felix will be severely affected, you don’t even care if your nudes are exposed, it’s him you fear the most. So you’ve spent nights… long and lonely, when you’re away, living on phone sex, stimulating yourself only with his voice, remembering and imagining the feel of him, of the image of his body against yours.

Still, the idea worries Felix, that his reaction seems tender to you, because, despite being extremely horny and accepting at first without reneging, he had to make sure first, reflecting in his handsome face concern.

“A video? Princess, are you sure? Is that what you want?”

He knows how you approach a subject that the two of you have already touched on. But you nod deeply and submissively without taking your eyes off him.

“Just record me…. Lix, you don’t have to be on frame… It’s for when you get lonely and miss me.”

He sighs and seems to be slightly perplexed.

“Come on, Felix. Don’t you want to? Your body tells me otherwise...”

You begin to tease him, stroking his stiff cock over the thin fabric of his shorts. He moans, closes his eyes and nods. He needs you. Now.

“All right, princess. Let’s do this.”

Your face reflects soft victory. You leave his cell phone next to you on the bed and stand up abruptly, reaching into your purse for that little thong that caused this whole effect on both of you. Felix watches you, you are impatient, you act fast, so fast that you start undressing right in front of him. Felix blinks incredulously and in one swift movement, boldly and dirtyly grabs his phone, not wanting to miss a moment of what he is experiencing. His cock throbs hard, thinking in the future how painfully pleasurable it will be to masturbate to an obscene video of you, thinking of the dirty, exquisite fantasy that is this experience. He begins to videotape you, this time without shame, your clothes falling to the floor. Both sexes beg desperately to be touched and the silence of the room is so tense that you feel that your loud heartbeat can be heard, that was the disturbingly exciting thing about the hotel rooms you spend so much time in with Felix, the silence, the distinct sound of your heavy breathing.

Felix licks his lips, losing himself in the image of his phone capturing your body, then watching you. He sighs again, half-heartedly.

“Can I… at least talk?” he says. ��If I’m not going to be fully part… if this ever comes out… can I say my voice is AI?”

You giggle. “Of course you can talk… this video is completely just for you.”

You look into the camera and then straight into your boyfriend’s eyes. Felix is disturbingly horny, impatient, but something in his expression expresses that he can resist, that he’s enjoying all of this more than anything.

You take off your blouse, the pants you were a little sick of because you couldn’t wear a skirt or a nice dress, since you were incognito. You stay in your underwear and appreciate the concentrated expression on Felix’s face.

“Baby, you’re beautiful. Let me capture absolutely everything I have to remember while I’m on tour…”

His voice is husky, needy. He directs his phone’s camera first to your face. Capturing every soft angle of your pretty face. You giggle somewhat nervously and shyly… and then, the show finally begins, Felix slowly lowers his cell phone, recording your breasts, your abdomen, your panties. He gasps again, feeling more and more excited and desperate, which as proof is the sensation of his guilty precum staining his underwear. You are everything to him.

He can’t help himself and with his free hand he begins to caress you delicately, to squeeze your waist, to caress your ass, to subtly turn you over to get the perfect shot of how very lovely and round it looks.

“I’m going to wear… the panties you want” you whisper.

Felix stops touching you, and you quickly pull off your panties, making him audibly sigh. Your breasts look better in person than the quality of his cell phone; still, on both sides, he loves them. You pull down your panties carefully, slowly, and seductively, feeling your temperature rise, you are incredibly aroused, and at this point, you regret a little bit to propose between you a game of seduction, patience, and provocation.

Your boyfriend keeps biting his lips hard, feeling the great need to gasp every time you tease him more and more. He shamelessly records your panties going down your legs, of the thin fabric slowly clearing from your vaginal lips and finally, the soft and cute shot of your mons pubis, slowly zooming out to get the great shot of your naked body, for him and him alone.

“Fuck, baby… I don’t know if I can resist anymore. Let’s do a porno at this point” Felix teases, each word lower than the other, clearly altered in desire.

You chuckle. “You’re cute.”

You continue with your thing, with the original plan to tease your boyfriend and drive him to madness, but this is proving extremely difficult for you too; you need him badly too. Still, you slowly put on yourself the tiny little garment that Felix fantasized about from the second he saw it.

He is breathless. You moan softly, the new underwear starts to tease your pussy and cling hotly to your ass. The tiny thong fits you even better than he would have imagined, the sheer fabric barely even covers your pubic area, the triangle figure is so small… it’s such a damn provocative and useless garment.

“You like it?” you question, proudly.

“I love it” he confesses with a piercing gaze into yours. “Now… lie down, darling… show me how wet you are for me. What are you going to do, my naughty little girl?”

You bite your lip. Felix’s gentle dominance drives you uncontrollably crazy. He apparently adapted quickly to the purpose of your idea. You obey him at once, lying your body comfortably on the bed. He follows your movements, crawling onto the bed next to you on his knees.

“I’m… I’m going to touch myself for you.”

You are helplessly aroused, lying back on the bed. You fondle your breasts, flex your knees and finally spread your legs, letting out a soft moan on the spot. Felix records your soft breasts, your hands playing nervously with them and moves down to your juicy lips, your labia glossy, lightly stimulated, your throbbing sex exposed.

“Fuck” Felix grunts, aggressively stroking his cock, adjusting himself a little. “Oh yeah? What do you think about when you touch yourself like that, princess?”

His rough voice turns you on even more, and his lustful gaze almost makes you tremble. Your fingers slowly slide down your skin until they reach your pussy. Felix begins to be possessed by his role: recording every single detail of your dripping pussy, every tremor of your body, he is fascinated.

You play with your clit, your middle finger tracing the thin fabric of your panties, you wiggle your pelvis and moan softly. You’re so horny, so surrendered, you’re completely his.

“Tell me, tell me, how does it feel, oh, look at you, you’re so fucking wet, all that pretty pussy for me... do your fingers feel as good as mine?” Felix continues, his phone capturing every moment of your docile, weak but energetically aroused reclining body.

You begin to tremble with pleasure, with nervousness, and it’s even difficult to speak.

“Mmmm, it feels so good... but not as good as you...” you pant, circling your clit, gently moving your legs.

“Oh yeah? Are you going to miss me, baby? How much, huh? How much are you going to miss me, sweetheart?”

You nod. Your fingers begin to slide down your folds, losing themselves in their warmth and wetness. There is something so obscene about the way your sweet boyfriend mercilessly records you, his impatience and constant licking of his lips, wanting you. His stiff member is slowly bothering him.

“A lot, Felix, a lot... I'm gonna miss you a lot...”

“Is this how you touch yourself when I’m not with you, baby? Show me how you do it, you can’t stop thinking about me?”

You shake your head. You find it funny, the way you suggested the idea, how you started teasing him, but now he’s the one pushing you to the limit. You tease yourself more, touching your weak spots that you know make you tremble, but the sensations are a thousand times better and more intense when your boyfriend does it. You tempt your entrance, arching your pelvis, wanting to insert your fingers inside you. Felix is breathing heavily, and you’re almost certain that his need can be heard even through his cell phone.

Finally, you slip your hand inside the small piece of fabric covering your pussy and while you play with your breasts, your nipples erect from the touch of your other hand, with the other you caress with painful patience the skin of your pubis, your clit, your juicy labia, all of which is killing you.

“Oh, yeah. Just like that, baby. Stick two fingers inside you... touch yourself for me, do it, imagine it’s me filling you up...”

You obey instantly and whimper, letting out a sigh as you feel your fingers slide easily into your entrance. You feel your tightness, the length of your fingers teasing you but not filling you completely the way Felix’s cock does.

You gasp, slowly thrusting to increase your rhythm, moving your hips, desperately caressing your clit with your other hand. Felix notices and speaks again, his voice so dark that he sounds like a damn villain about to destroy you, yet there is a certain playfulness in his tone:

“Look at you acting like this, so desperate, baby... you’re not being gentle with yourself at all. Is this how you want me to fuck you? Do you imagine me fucking you hard?”

Felix refrains from touching you. His hands begin to tremble, he has a voracious hunger for you that he has never felt before, his cock begins to come to life, throbbing to the rhythm of your violent thrusts with your fingers in your stimulated entrance.

“F-Felix...” you whimper, dragging out your words, biting your lip and looking him straight in the eyes the whole time.

Your heartbeat pounds in your ears, you gasp in desperation and... he seems to be there, sadistically enjoying the show. At this point, Felix himself is surprised at his resistance, at not cumming right there just by looking at you, but one thing is certain, his genitals are so fucking sensitive from not being stimulated at all, and he was going to take that out on you in due course... in the meantime:

“Use your words, baby, tell me anything. Remember that this video is for when I’m alone, missing you.”

“Fuck, Felix. I want you to fuck me. Fuck me, fuck me, please be here with me. Mmm...”

“You’re going to miss my cock, aren’t you, you little cunt? If only you could see yourself now, so needy, making a mess on the fucking hotel bed, you’re a very, very bad girl, princess.”

His accent becomes thicker and more defined, his desperation speaks for itself as he begins to sound aggressive with you, no longer soft, no more purring and sizzling teasing tone. He is being demanding with you now.

You wanted to ask him to touch you. Your fingers are quick, your caresses soft, but nothing like him, you’re so close and yet so far away. You have him there, watching you masturbate, his big bulge throbbing, his pupils dilating with fantasy. You were so needy that you even begged him in a gasp,

“Felix, please, touch me.”

He clicks his tongue, amused to see your body writhing in pleasure. He’s enjoying it to the fullest.

“No, no, no, sweetheart. I can’t be in the shot, don’t you remember? Just touch yourself for me, give your best show for when your boyfriend needs it most. Damn, you have no idea how much you turn me on, I’m going to jerk off so hard to this, baby” he groans.

“Do it, now, touch yourself,” you beg.

He smiles, showing his teeth, “You want to see my cock that badly, don’t you, hunny? You’re just a fucking little slut, you better cum on your fingers or I swear to God I’ll leave you like that. All fucking needy and horny for me. You started it, now you finish it.”

Your vision starts to blur, your pussy starts to sound obscenely wet, you bury your fingers deeper, but it’s not enough, it’s not him. It’s a real torture to have him in front of you and not be able to touch him.

“Then talk to me, talk to me more.”

He laughs. “Ha. I almost forgot how naughty you are, love. Of course, you have a thing for my voice.” He turns his phone away from you and leans dangerously close to your ear, his body hovering over yours, his soft shirt brushing against your bare chest, and whispers, his voice so seductively deep that it makes you tremble, “It turns you on, doesn’t it? Do you think you’ll cum faster if I talk dirty to you?”

You both maintain intense, penetrating eye contact. You’re so close, feeling this needy puts you in a state of mind where you want to surrender, where you want to cum; you wonder if you do... what can Felix give you, does he really plan on keeping his hard erection the whole time?

He pulls away from you.

“Come on, baby, I know you’re close, aren’t you? God, you don’t know how many times I fantasized about you touching yourself all those nights we had phone sex. Are you really this horny and slutty? Every time I tell you all the things I want to do to you... how I want to touch you and make you feel...”

Felix lets out an arrogant chuckle and gently caresses your clit. You react, sighing and tensing your body. You’re so sensitive, as if he’s pressed a button inside you.

“Do you want me to touch you, princess? Tell me what you want...”

You sigh and go back to working on your pussy with soft, delicate, slow movements... suddenly you feel a little embarrassed, being so sensitive to him. You swallow, and your throat is so dry and empty.

“Felix, I need you, please. You can touch me... Did you get a good video, already? Please, come here and make me cum.”

“Do you need me that much? I’m the only one who knows how to take good care of your little pussy. But I told you I’m not going to stop until you come for me,” he orders you harshly.

He raises his eyebrows mischievously, an idea popping into his head. You sigh, resigned to the fact that you’ll have to bring yourself to orgasm on your own, so that maybe he’ll touch you afterwards and take out his burning energy on you. But you watch as Felix leans over the nightstand next to the bed, opens the drawer, and pulls out the new vibrator he bought you, compact and very useful. Felix loves to make things hotter in bed, to have you wear lingerie, to use toys, everything to give you endless, long, intense pleasure.

“You wanna cum faster, baby girl?” he shows you the vibrator. “I bet you use it imagining that it’s me making you feel good when I’m not around.”

You don’t even have time to process it or respond when he turns on the toy and presses it hard against your already stimulated clit, having the obscene take of his hand using the sex toy on your used pussy. You whimper and instinctively close your legs, but he acts quickly, grabbing your knees to prevent you from doing so.

“Ah, ah,” he warns you, “Hold the vibrator and play with your pussy, baby.”

You look him in the eyes. Your makeup is a little smudged, your gaze pleads for mercy, it’s bright, and your eyes look slightly larger. You’re suffering, you’re enjoying it, and Felix is going crazy.

You take the toy and let it vibrate violently against your clit. The vibrations are exquisite, encompassing your entire wet vulva. You moan in pleasure, feeling so close. Felix quickly and tentatively runs two of his fingers over your pussy, dipping his fingers shallowly into your entrance, a reaction that makes you whimper even louder. He is mesmerized, consumed by flames, so damn spellbound by you and his immense need to have you that he attractively brings those two fingers to his mouth, licking them deliciously, tasting you a little. He moans and enjoys it, as if you were something so delicious. That action alone increases your horniness level.

“You always taste so fucking sweet. Just like that, baby, just like that,” he coos, “You’re doing so well, my good girl.”

You’re enjoying it, despite feeling his great absence, you let yourself go, you think you can reach an intense orgasm soon, after pushing yourself to the limit and overstimulating yourself... when suddenly you let out a big sigh as you see your boyfriend pull down his shorts and underwear, Felix’s cock pops out, wriggling, fully erect, so perfectly stimulated that its tip is bright pink. He whimpers and begins to rub his hard shaft. That’s when you prolong your orgasm a little longer, because every part of you needs him.

Your gaze is lost on his cock, on the roughness of his freshly shaved pubic area, small, faintly pigmented freckles visible on his skin that you already know by heart, on the softness of the skin of his cock, that vein that drives you crazy running along its length, his medium-sized hand moving up and down on it, masturbating gently.

“Hey, eyes on me, you little slut,” he orders you, bringing you out of your trance and back to maintaining eye contact with him. “I know you want my cock, angel. Beg for it and you may get it. But now, c’mon, put the vibrator inside you... let me see you scream,” a mischievous and wicked smile appears on his tender and attractive face, which is anything but tender right now, he’s eager.

You bite your lip and obey your boyfriend’s command, almost collapsing from the sensation of the intense vibrations inside you. You want to beg for him. His phone camera zooms in depravedly on your vulnerable area, and Felix closes his eyes as his hand fills him with pleasure.

“Lix, please—”

“Now turn around,” he interrupts you and orders in an eerily harsh voice, “Let me see your pretty ass while your pussy takes the vibrator, my sweet good girl.”

It’s the little phrases and his voice that bring your orgasm forward and make you want to collapse. You obey him again, moving your body completely and lifting your ass gently for the camera and for your boyfriend. Your hand doesn’t stop holding the vibrator, and in a desperate attempt, you start pushing it in and out of your pussy.

Felix pants heavily. He has the perfect view of your round ass and juicy, stimulated pussy. At this point, you were both a mess; the thin fabric of your thong was soaked, your labia majora practically stained with your juices. Felix gives you a gentle spanking that makes you sigh.

“You take the vibrator so fucking well, princess. I want to ruin that fucking useless piece of thong you’re wearing.”

And then, you feel him, his cock teasing you, taking the string of your thong to pull it tight and rub his stimulated cock between your ass cheeks and into your ass. It’s a bit narcissistic, the way he loves how his cock looks on camera, rubbing against your ass and his balls subtly grazing your center.

You can’t resist any longer, you whimper and start begging for him.

“Please, please, Felix, fuck me.”

“I can’t hear you, baby,” he teases, rubbing against you.

But you can’t hold it anymore, you want to beg him harder, but your orgasm is close. You roll your eyes back slightly, Felix can tell you’re close to climaxing, so he pulls his cock out of you skin and lets you pant intensely, screaming his name:

“Fe-fe-felix, Lix, I-”

You collapse breathless and orgasm intensely, tensing every muscle.

He is more than happy, his ego swells, and he quickly takes the vibrator from your now weak grip. Your limbs are fragile, trembling. He turns off the toy and leaves it far from your agitated body, in a state of absolute use, wet. Felix grabs you by the waist with both hands, and you realize that the show is over. He finishes recording and puts his cell phone aside. He turns you back over, laying you down with your legs spread.

“Good girl.”

Felix has an adorable smile on his face, and as soon as you are recovering, speechless and still slightly collapsing from your orgasm, he leans down and begins to eat your pussy, savoring your climax. You moan, impressed that this is his next move. His long hair tickles your thighs. His licks are slow, his tongue thick and hot, flicking his tongue along your labia and entire vulva, he is savoring everything, gently sucking your clit. Building excitement in you quickly.

He starts using his fingers too and works on your pussy, worshiping you. He does this for a few long moments, long enough to have you panting again. He thrusts two fingers inside you and begins to penetrate you with them. You couldn’t believe it.

Felix pulls away from you, just when he feels you are needy enough again, still thrusting his fingers inside you and releasing you arrogantly, his full, shiny lips of you.

“We’re not done yet, beautiful. Not until I fill your pretty pussy with all of me.”

Finally, you watch his fingers move away from your cunt, he takes off his shirt in one swift movement and adjusts his body over you, teasing you with his wet tip between your folds, rubbing his erection over your mons pubis and under the fabric of your panties, so he can pull aside the thin thread that was stimulating your entrance and thrust his cock into you, slowly at first, then quickly and abruptly all the way in with a single thrust. You gasp loudly, clutching the sheets tightly; it was what you had been longing for.

Felix approaches you, making the act intimately dirty, it’s a mess, you’re so wet, and you both need each other so desperately that he starts to whimper as he moves inside you. Your legs seek to wrap around his body, and your hands finally touch your boyfriend. His thrusts are deep, desperate, filling you completely, moving inside you perfectly in a delicious rhythm, fucking you with impatient need. You both sigh, babbling each other’s names into the air.

“You feel so fucking good,” he pants, pounding into you. “I’m going to miss this so much,” he confesses between gasps.

You dig your nails into his back, begin to arch your back, you love this so much. You love being under his body, being nothing and everything at the same time, fading into him. Felix presses his forehead against yours and stares at you for a few seconds before taking your lips, desperately sweet, fierce, passionate, a long-lasting, wet kiss full of secrets that only the two of you know. You separate for lack of air... you are so focused on the sensation of your pussy being attended to, enjoying his body rubbing against your vulva, him filling your insides and the friction of his hard cock sliding inside you, that you are completely surprised when he pulls away a little and takes his penis out of you. The beautiful moment and the magic are over for a second.

“Turn around again, love. I’m going to fuck you hard now.”

He orders and grabs your waist desperately. He turns your body around, grabbing your ass and making you arch your back; you see him pick up his phone again and whisper, “Fuck it.”

Felix places his cell phone horizontally on a pillow, leaning back against the headboard. You notice that he is recording from the frontal camera and your face is completely visible, along with his bare chest, but his face isn’t in the frame. Your heart races. It’s terribly obscene, you love it.

“I want to remember your beautiful face while I fuck you hard.”

Felix sentences and, without further ado, slides his cock into you brutally, making you let out a muffled scream. You feel it deep inside you, throbbing, penetrating you with force. He grabs your waist tightly and starts thrusting into you intensely, sliding his cock into you, piercing and wrecking you completely. The room fills with your moans and his grunts, with both of your skins colliding intensely. You cling to the sheets again, being fucked helplessly. Felix feels you close, as close as he is.

“I want to remember your face when you come for me, please. Smile for the camera, baby.”

You look at your reflection on his cell phone screen. You’re whimpering, slightly disheveled, your makeup smudged, completely cock-drunk. You wonder if you’re disturbing your neighbor’s peace. You’re so close, your eyes almost teary, your walls squeezing Felix’s cock perfectly, enough to make him reach orgasm with intensity, making him scream. You feel his cock tremble inside you and semen fill you completely, your guilty pleasure, you love when Felix creams you. Felix continues with messy thrusts, collapsing on top of you faintly, and that’s when you climax too, your heart beating intensely, your body agitated and trembling.

“I love you, dear,” he confesses, breathless, collapsing beside you.

You look at him with a smile, feeling the absence of his warm cock inside you, but you understand that it must be too sensitive. You look at him with loving eyes, about to answer him, when you hear someone knocking on your door. It’s Seungmin.

“Heeeey, guys. Are you there? Did you fall asleep?”

Felix and you smile at each other in complicity, with heavy breathing.

taglist: @rylea08 @iovecb97 @armystay89 @lolareadsimagines @ayyonoona @do-you-remember-summer-127 @wildtokay @korthbum @oddracha @hyune-sssne  @choso4u

note !! : hey guys, ik i havent been really active, sorry if im tagging u and somethings wrong, so pls let me know if you want to be removed from the taglist by dm or an ask, or update ur user, or if i missed your user, or literally anything plss !!, the link is right up, or again, my messages and inbox are open to anything :) luv ya

[littlegrapejuice]

Out Of Your League | MV1

Pairing: Max Verstappen x Reader

Summary: The whole world knows that you're dating Max, but a majority of people don't understand why. So when you're finally back in the paddock, you have to remind the grid that he's the only one you want.

Author's Note: okayyy so this was my first request ever like that's absolutely insane😭 whoever's the anon who asked for this a few weeks ago, i hope you enjoy it!! I tried to stay faithful to the request but i kinda went off script at some point idk i did my best lol<3

F1 MASTERLIST🏎

“What does she see in him?”

“Why are they even together?”

“How did he end up with her?”

Those were questions you often heard whenever you and your boyfriend were out in public. The same questions were always present in your comments every time you posted a picture of you together.

And every time, you never understood why people wondered.

First of all, it was none of their business – his words.

Second of all, it should be the other way around – your words.

Being part of the entertainment world, you were always under the spotlight as an actress. You had been part of this work area for a while already, starting with small roles as background characters in some films before finally being a main character in a TV show years later. This had led to the fans gradually getting to know more about your acting range, and everyone eventually just came to love the actress who played all those different characters.

You knew that the recognition you were getting over the years was nothing to be shy of. You were extremely proud of yourself and you understood your worth, but you were just an actress.

So why did people think that you were out of Max Verstappen’s league? He was a Formula One driver, and a four-times – in a row! – world champion. He had broken so many records, won so many races, had twice that number of podiums, and was probably the greatest of his generation.

But it seemed that next to you, everything Max had accomplished didn’t matter anymore.

He had seen it the first time he brought you to the paddock. Everyone had been gushing about Hollywood’s rising star and suddenly, F1’s own star wasn’t so relevant anymore. No one had expected you to date Max Verstappen, and the perfect weekend he had was quickly overshadowed by your presence. Max had been cropped out of pictures, only you remaining in them; people had asked for your autograph more than Max’s; and every interview Max had done during the weekend had mentioned you at least once.

Safe to say, Max was considered a loser by the world whenever he was next to you. Which is why a very small part of him was kind of glad when you were unable to attend most races due to shooting. People would still find a way to talk about you, asking Max about your current film, but the focus was mostly back on him.

…..

Eventually, you were free to come see Max race when you were done with the press tour for the next film you starred in. Max knew what to expect once again, when you’d be entering the paddock together, but there was one thing he hadn’t thought of.

Compared to the last time you had come to a race, the grid had changed a lot. Neither Daniel nor Checo were here anymore, there had been quite a lot of drivers changing teams, and most important: a quarter of the drivers were rookies whom you had never met.

So when Max casually told his team that you would be coming to the next race, word had travelled fast around the paddock. Soon enough, all the drivers knew that you would be there next weekend.

Although the media left you alone for the time being, the grid had gradually swarmed you when you entered the paddock on Friday. Max hadn’t been with you, having arrived earlier to meet with his team, so you were alone against the drivers.

It had started with Lando and Charles.

“Haven't seen you in a while”, Lando pointed out as he began to walk beside you.

“I have to agree. Last time I was here, you had never won a race.”

“And now look at me!” Lando put his arm around your shoulders. “I’m leading the championship, and soon enough I’ll take the title from your boyfriend.”

“If you do win this year, Max still has three more titles than you.” You gently removed Lando’s arm and patted his back. “And I do love a multiple times world champion”, you added with a proud smile.

“Is that your criteria in a man?” Charles eventually asked.

“Maybe… that’s why I’d be more interested in your teammate than you, Charles.” You gave a wink to the Monegasque before swiftly leaving the two drivers to make your way to the Red Bull hospitality.

“Damn… she got you good, man.”

“Lando, she rejected you too.” Charles sighed. “Still don’t know what she sees in him.”

“I swear,” Lando agreed. “What’s a few titles when she could have a charming driver like me, who’s currently in the fastest car!”

“And if it’s Max living in Monaco that interests her, then why not go for the actual Monegasque of the grid?”

You had known that those two would’ve been the first drivers to approach you. Now, the question was: who would be the next ones?

Fortunately, you had been able to peacefully watch FP1 in Max’s garage. But as soon as the session ended, you were once again finding yourself with a duo of drivers next to you. The former AlphaTauri pairing had come up to you, and you kind of knew already what arguments to expect from them.

“So, you’re back in the paddock. Did you notice I was in the garage right next to you?” Yuki asked.

“I did, indeed. Congrats on finally getting that seat, Yuki.” You were being genuine, having always known that the Japanese driver deserved to be in a top team.

“Is Red Bull one of your criterias, then?” Pierre wondered. “Because I could remind you that I also drove for them.”

“Yeah, but who’s still in that team?” You countered. Before Yuki could add something in his favour, you shut down any hope he could have. “And thank you for any restaurant recommendations you can give me, but I’ll go try them out with Max only – I don’t think he’ll enjoy you trying to make him third wheel, again.”

That be told, you then bid the two drivers goodbye as you felt your phone vibrating. This was the sign that Max was looking for you, as you two had planned to grab lunch before FP2. Yuki and Pierre watched from afar as you hugged your boyfriend, before you both left their sight.

“Still don’t understand how he ended up with her…” Yuki complained. “Getting the Red Bull seat was actually worthless.”

“Also she could do way better than a guy from the Netherlands!” Pierre exclaimed. “I’m French, I could bring her to the city of love.”

“And I could cook for her,” Yuki added. “I don’t think I ever saw Max eat anything that he made himself.”

…..

“So, how many of them have come up to you for now?” Max asked before taking a bite of his food.

“I’ll let you guess”, you replied as a challenge.

“Maybe three?” Max wondered. “I saw Pierre and Yuki earlier, so that’s at least two. And I wanna bet on Lando having been the first.”

“You’re almost right; it was actually four. Charles was with Lando,” you explained.

“Not surprising.”

“Well, I’m apparently really charming according to your work friends.”

“You’re breaking hearts left and right, should I be worried?” Max teasingly asked.

“If anyone’s getting their heart broken, it’d be you breaking mine. I’m way too in love with you to break yours.”

“Not what the media nor your fans expect”, Max countered.

“Fuck the media,” you immediately said. “Not my fans, though. But fuck the media.”

“Fuck the media”, Max repeated with a chuckle as he raised his glass for you to clink yours with.

…..

While waiting for FP2 to start, you observed the cars lined in the pit lane from Max’s garage. Your boyfriend was one of the closest to the pit exit, which meant that he would be one of the first on track. Looking at whose car was currently parked in front of Red Bull, you recognised George’s Mercedes.

As if sensing your gaze on him, his head turned to the right and you knew he saw you as well. The Brit waved at you, and your only reaction was to shake your head. Sorry George, you thought before you saw him drive towards the pit exit. You wouldn’t entertain him, even if he came up to you during the weekend. That was an agreement with Max: anyone else was game, except Toto Wolff’s drivers. So that’s you knew that now that Lewis had moved to Ferrari, you could expect to see him this weekend.

For now though, you were simply enjoying watching your boyfriend top the practice session while catching up with some Red Bull employees – even Christian Horner came to talk with you for a bit. And although you tried to cut the conversation short, it was still pleasantly surprising to know that he liked having you here – as it helped boost Max’s morale.

…..

Time passed by quicker than you expected. Talking with Max’s team had distracted you a bit; and next thing you knew, you were leaving the track with your boyfriend to go back to your hotel. Due to the fact that it was still early, Max had organised a padel match with other drivers so you were only going back to your shared room for a short time. You had wanted to refuse the invitation at first – padel wasn’t really your thing as you preferred actual tennis, but Max had somehow guilt-tripped you into coming to support him after having skipped so many races.

So here you were now, sitting on a bench on the side of the court. Max had teamed up with Alex; Carlos and Lando against them. Lando knew not to flirt with you while Max was literally five feet away, but it seemed that the Williams drivers didn’t really care.

Everytime Carlos would score a point, he would immediately look at you before sending you a wink. You honestly missed half of them, as your eyes were either focused on your phone or your boyfriend. Alex, however, was more subtle. His flirting happened more in the way that he kept walking back to where you were during games, pretending to need a drink. Deciding to play into it a little bit, you would always have his water bottle ready and give it to him wherever he approached you. Also, you had to admit that his smile was absolutely charming, always bright and welcoming.

But even after all that, it was with Max that you left the court. Hand in hand, you were both slowly getting out of the other drivers’ sight while Lando patted Alex and Carlos on the back.

“You ain’t her first victims today, don’t worry.” Despite wanting to reassure his friends, Lando’s words wouldn’t change anything. “It’s a universal experience that we all have to go through.”

“Didn’t even give us one chance”, Alex sighed as he ran his fingers through his hair.

“We should just run Max off track”, Carlos suggested.

“I wouldn’t go as far as that, but you could still try. I’m sure she’d love to date whoever sends her boyfriend to the hospital,” Lando sarcastically said.

“Yeah… don’t wanna risk putting our chances to zero”, Alex warned.

“Kinda think they’re already below zero, though…” Carlos sighed.

At least, they weren’t delusional. That’s what you always appreciated about the grid: their flirting was fun and innocent. At the end of the day, they truly did wish they could be in Max’s place. But Max was still a friend – to most of the drivers – and they knew that you loved him too much to even dare think about dating any other driver than him.

So for now: it was six down – seven with George, and two days left to reject the rest of the grid.

…..

As you had expected, Lewis eventually came up to you on Saturday. FP3 has just ended, and you’d had the unfortunate idea of walking around the paddock to stretch your legs. So when you passed by Ferrari, you knew exactly whose footsteps were quickly approaching you before you heard their owner’s voice.

“Hi, lovely to see you.”

“Hello to you too, Lewis. Ferrari’s treating you well?” You asked him.

“Could be better, but I won’t complain with the car being in the top three of every practice session this weekend.”

“Good for you.”

“By the way, a little birdie told me that you were interested in drivers with multiple world championships.” His voice was filled with a teasing tone as he innocently brought up what you knew Charles had let slip yesterday. “Any of that true?”

“Perhaps…” Nothing would come out of it, but it was still amusing to you to finally be able to entertain Mercedes’s former star. “I have someone on my radar, you might know him.”

“Really? Care to describe him to me?”

Like the other drivers, Lewis knew deep down that you weren’t giving him a real chance. But still, he could dream about it and have hopes for a couple minutes.

“He’s extremely handsome, very loyal…” You pictured Max in your mind, and tried to stay vague so that the compliments could also apply to Lewis. “Broke tons of records, has several world championships as we said… hmm, what else?” You pretended to think, until it was time to shatter Lewis’s half delusion. “He won Abu Dhabi in 2021, is currently in Red Bull, has the cutest cats ever… should I keep going?”

“Abu Dhabi is a low blow, you know that?”

“Yeah, sorry.” You weren’t entirely sorry. But as you both chuckled about it, you knew that Lewis wouldn’t hold it against you. “Unless you’d like to hang out with my dream man, I guess I’ll see you later?”

“Sure”, Lewis agreed with a shrug. “But don’t forget me if you ever need a seven-times world champion.”

“You’ll be on speed dial, don’t worry about it. Good luck for qualifying, Lewis.” You waved at him after parting ways, giving him a bright smile.

“Still can’t believe why she chose him, but who am I to judge…” Lewis mumbled to himself before walking back to Ferrari.

…..

After qualifying – Max had gotten pole, you were making a mental list of who were the drivers that you hadn’t seen yet.

You had talked to Lando, Charles, Pierre, Yuki, and both Williams drivers yesterday. George was out of the equation as well; and Lewis had been cleared earlier. Fernando and Nico were both ruled out from the beginning, which probably left Esteban and Lance. Max had told you that Oscar would probably be too shy or too lazy – or both – to come talk to you, so he was also crossed off the list.

But it wasn’t Esteban nor Lance that you saw while waiting for Max to come back from the media pen. No. While you were peacefully sipping on your drink in front of Red Bull, you were suddenly shadowed from the sun by way more than two people.

Six drivers, now standing in front of you with bright smiles. Six drivers you hadn’t even considered, and would quickly be dismissing after a quick chat.

“Hi,” you simply said while putting your sunglasses on top of your head.

“Hi,” they all replied.

Some of them shyly waved, and you couldn’t help thinking that they were adorable. For a couple minutes, they just stood there while a smile made its way onto your face. They were all visibly nervous to talk to you, and you imagined that they felt braver coming as a group.

“We’re just big fans,” Liam eventually explained. “Thought we could still try and shoot our shot like everyone else.”

The other rookies all nodded, to emphasise Liam’s words.

“I’m really flattered”, you genuinely told them as you straightened your back.

“There’s a but coming, though. Is there?” Ollie sarcastically predicted.

“Yep”, you confirmed. “I’m really flattered, but…” And one by one, you pointed to them with a reason as to why they didn’t have much chance with you - in addition to them also being too young for you. “Charles’s spawn, Alpine, Sauber, French, former second Red Bull seat, and Toto’s offspring.”

“Wow, okay…” Jack eventually said. “Fair enough, honestly.”

“Thank God we have some ego left”, Isack added with a chuckle.

“But hypothetically, would those be actual valid reasons if Max wasn’t in the picture?” Ollie wondered as he leaned down with his hands on the table.

“I don’t do hypotheticals, sorry.” You started gathering your belongings, and stood up to signify to the rookies that you would be leaving them soon. “But that was a nice try, Oliver.”

The fact that you knew his name shouldn’t have surprised him, but the way you had said it so softly was enough for a blush to make its way onto the Brit’s cheeks.

“Have a nice race, okay? Maybe if you all make this one interesting, I’ll come back more often.” And with that, you grabbed your drink then sent a wink to the rookies before you were about to leave.

“But you know,” Kimi called for your attention as your back was about to face him, “they do say I’m the future Max Verstappen. That must still count for something, right?”

“Kimi, sweetheart.” You walked up to him and ruffled his hair, with a soft smile. “Emphasis on the future. I’m in love with current Max, sorry. But I’ll call you if there’s a future me entering the film industry one day!” After those last words, you definitely left the drivers and went back inside Red Bull to go look for Max.

Kimi couldn’t even be mad at you. If anything, that was more interaction than he had wished to get with you and he knew that he had won the unsaid competition against the other rookies.

…..

But honestly, none of the drivers had ever been competition to Max. You both knew that, even though the rest of the grid had liked to run a bit on delusion and false hopes during the weekend.

Hopes that you had completely crushed when Max won the race on Sunday, as you were the first person he ran up to after getting out of his car. Pictures of you kissing had been taken from every angle, and later posted everywhere for the whole world to see during the following days.

The whole world that also witnessed Max Verstappen being the one to leave the track hand in hand with you, bright and cheerful smiles adorning both your faces.

Maybe people were slowly understanding why you were with him, as it was easy to witness the love between Max and you whenever you were together in public. But there would always be this part of the world that would keep wondering why the two of you were together, although you simply didn’t care about it.

Max Verstappen might be the lucky one according to the general audience, but if someone were to ask you: you were the lucky one and he was out of your league.

..........

Still can't believe i wrote my 1st request omgg

This was honestly a challenge to write bc i didn't wanna be too repetitive like ik this might have slayed as a smau but I'd rather do narrative and descriptive shit so i don't think I'll ever do smaus - also big flemme mdr

But yeah i hope y'all liked this - esp the anon who requested it - so don't hesitate to like, reblog, or comment your thoughts🤍

See you soon, take care of yourselves, i love y'all xx

[mw00nie]

when you first met producer!suguru, he didn’t even say hi.

he just nodded from behind his massive desk, a lit cigarette resting between his fingers, smoke curling around his cheekbone as he tapped something into the beat sequencer. his black hair was messy in an admirable way, his eyes barely flicked in your direction. if shoko hadn’t walked in behind you and gone “suguru, this is her,” you would’ve thought he hadn’t noticed you walked into the studio at all.

“you sing?” he asked, voice low, dry. you nodded. he gestured to the mic booth. “go.”

that was it. no warm-up, no icebreaker, no compliments about your viral video that landed you in this basement studio in the first place. he played a loop, some scratchy vinyl sample over a gritty bassline, and let you figure out what to do with it.

you didn’t impress him right away. he didn’t say anything after your first run. or your second. but after the third take, he reached over and stopped the track.

“try again,” he said. “don’t think so hard this time.”

and for some reason, you listened.

***

three months passed like weather. fast. quiet. unpredictable.

you showed up to that studio almost every day. some days you’d write for hours and only get one clean take. other days you’d record nothing at all. he didn’t force anything. if the energy was off, he’d light up, lean back, and scroll through sounds for hours without even looking at you. but you didn’t leave. you stayed. the silence between you started to feel like music too.

he wasn’t exactly warm, but he wasn’t cold either. he was still. unreadable. a little strange. he didn’t say much unless it mattered. didn’t have any other artists coming in. no flashy equipment, no plaques on the walls. just you, him, and whatever beat he built for the day. his instagram had no posts. no stories. just a profile picture of his recording booth with dimmed lights.

you started calling him “ghostface.” he didn’t laugh, but you saw the corner of his mouth twitch once.

you’d talk more in the later sessions. after midnight. when the windows steamed up and your voice was a little rough from singing too long. he’d ask about your old band, your hometown, the first song you ever wrote. you’d ask him why he didn’t work with anyone else, and he’d shrug and say, “don’t like most people.” he never really answered questions. he just let them float.

you started leaving stuff there. your hoodie, your lip gloss, your charger. he didn’t mention it, but you noticed he moved your things to the little side table by the mic booth. like it was your spot.

he smelled like vetiver and incense. clean but earthy. his hands were always cold. he rarely looked you in the eye unless he was adjusting your mic. and when he did, it felt too loud in your chest to breathe right.

you didn’t know when it started. the tension. maybe it was always there. maybe it was the way he listened when you sang. not just to the notes, but to you. or how sometimes you’d glance at him through the booth glass and find him already watching you.

the first time he touched you, it was an accident. you reached for the same knob. your fingers brushed. and you didn’t move yours away.

neither did he.

***

the night it happened, the track wasn’t even finished.

you were in the booth laying harmonies over a hook he’d built that morning. just a scratch loop, moody keys and that signature dusty drum pattern he always defaulted to when he wasn’t trying too hard. you’d run through the same few lines a dozen times, but it wasn’t clicking. you felt off. exposed. raw.

you pushed open the booth door and leaned against the frame. your tank top clung to your skin, sweat cooling on your lower back. no bra. cotton shorts. the kind of outfit you only wore around him now, like it was your shared little secret.

he was in his usual spot. sockless, cross-legged, his bun loose and falling apart, smoke trailing from the joint between his fingers. he glanced at you over his shoulder, but didn’t say anything.

“something’s off,” you said softly.

“your timing’s behind the snare.”

“that’s not what i mean.”

this time, he turned.

for a few seconds, neither of you moved. the beat kept looping on his screen, the faint hum of it bleeding through the room. he just stared at you, like he’d already heard what you were about to say and was waiting for you to admit it.

so you walked up to him. close. he didn’t lean back, didn’t shift away, just tracked your movements, eyes darker than the room.

you took the cigarette from his hand and stubbed it out. his fingers twitched when yours brushed them. still, he didn’t say a word.

“what are we doing?” you asked, barely above a whisper.

his voice was lower than yours, almost a rasp. “you tell me.”

you kissed him like you needed to. his hand caught your waist instantly, grounding you. the other slid up the back of your neck, slow, steady, holding you still like he couldn’t risk you leaving.

his mouth was warm. soft, but patient. deliberate. not frantic, not greedy, just present. every movement slow, like he wanted to drag this out. like he’d been imagining it for a while and didn’t want to get it wrong.

you climbed into his lap without even thinking about it. straddling him, your knees on either side of his hips. his palms found your thighs, dragging up under your shorts. you felt the heat bloom in your stomach when he gripped your ass through the fabric, pulled you tighter against him.

your tank was pushed up before you even noticed his hands move. he kissed your collarbone first. then the curve of your chest. then your breast, tongue slow, eyes half-lidded, like he was worshipping it. your breath hitched when his teeth grazed your nipple.

“fuck, sugu–”

he exhaled through his nose, like he felt that. his name in your mouth.

you pulled his shirt off, then reached for his jeans. he stopped you with a hand around your wrist.

“booth,” he murmured.

“what?”

“i want you in the booth.” which made sense because it was soundproofed.

he stood and lifted you with him in one motion. didn’t give you a chance to protest. just walked you straight into the recording space and pressed you back into the padded wall. the door clicked shut behind you.

you gasped when he dropped to his knees.

“oh–wait–”

but he’d already hooked his fingers into your shorts and tugged them down, slow, mouth dragging along your thigh as he kissed his way up. your legs trembled a little. he looked up at you, one brow lifted, like he was asking if you’d tell him to stop.

you didn’t.

he licked a long, deliberate stripe up your center.

your hand hit the wall.

“fuck–”

his tongue was slow, purposeful, tracing around your clit before sucking it gently between his lips. two fingers pushed into you without warning. the angle was perfect. his rhythm was maddening. steady, unhurried, like he enjoyed how much it wrecked you.

you came fast. embarrassingly fast. legs twitching, breath catching in your throat, hips grinding against his mouth like you couldn’t help it.

he stood up again, mouth slick, eyes so dark they barely looked brown anymore.

“you okay?” he murmured, brushing your hair behind your ear.

“yes,” you breathed. “please–”

you tugged at his belt and he let you, but he didn’t rush. undid his fly slow, dragged his boxers down just enough. when he lined himself up, he waited. forehead to yours, hands on your hips.

“look at me,” he said softly.

you did. and he slid into you in one long, aching push.

your lips parted, breath stuttering. he was thick. deep. your back arched as he bottomed out, the stretch perfect, almost too much. he groaned low in his throat, jaw clenched tight.

“so fucking wet,” he whispered.

you couldn’t respond. just nodded, legs wrapped around his waist, arms hooked around his neck. he started to move. slow at first. then harder. deeper.

your moans filled the space. quiet at first, then louder. helpless.

he kissed you through it. your lips, your jaw, your throat. said your name under his breath like it was something sacred. and when he hit that spot that made you cry out, he kept hitting it. over and over. precise. focused. until you came again, nails dragging down his back.

“oh my god– fuck– don’t stop–”

he didn’t.

he fucked you through it, grunting softly in your ear. you heard him mutter, “good girl,” and you clenched around him so hard he stilled.

“you keep doing that and i’m not gonna last,” he said, breath ragged.

“then come,” you whispered, teeth grazing his shoulder.

he whimpered. actually whimpered.  and drove into you once, twice more before pulling you down hard onto his cock and burying himself with a broken moan. you felt him twitch inside you, his arms tight around your back, his mouth open against your neck.

you stayed like that. tangled, panting, your heartbeat stuttering in your ears.

then he blinked. tilted his head toward the mic. 

“shit.”

you froze. “what?”

he exhaled.

“…still recording.”

you looked up at the red light blinking on the mic. blinking. still on.

your stomach dropped.

“suguru..how long–”

he leaned out, pressed the stop key on the monitor.

00:49:53

“fifty minutes..”

you smacked his arm. “are you serious?!”

he winced, then smirked, lazy and smug. “fifty minutes of pure soul.”

“delete it.”

“nope.”

“i swear–”

he kissed your temple. then your cheek. then your lips.

“we’ll sample it,” he murmured. “cut around the names.”

“you’re insane.”

***

A/N: i almost went insane while writing this and i have absolutely no motivation so idk if this good :<

[bucketbueckers]

BIGGER IN TEXAS

pairing: paige bueckers x fem!reader

content: filth (and some plot, as a treat)!! language, light alcohol/body shots, oral, fingering, strap, fuck ass cowboy hats, freak shit im talm bout inittttt, slight overstim, mirror, light choking (author is unoriginal we know this), reader is honestly thirsty as hell but so is paige, idk how to tag smut properly just know im losing my spot in heaven for this fic

wc: 10.5k

synopsis: A Dallas Wings rookie and a Dallas Cowboys Cheerleader walk into a club together. What could possibly go wrong?

notes: i wasn't ovulating when i drafted this but i am now! maybe tmi. sinners changed my life and my main takeaway from that movie is everyone is a munch and thats a life philosophy i think everyone should have. make sure you all say "thank you kali uchis" because i actually got insane writers block after waking up this morning but her album saved me. not much to say but im actually going to hell for this so please make it worth it and hit up my inbox pls and ty 🫶 as always i hope yall enjoy!

Let the record show that you weren’t serious.

Okay. You were like, 50% serious. As in if you were presented with the opportunity, you would take it, but if any of your friends were to ask about it, you would probably deflect.

You realize now that you tend to get a little overzealous on Twitter – it’s far more unhinged than your Instagram is, where you share pictures of your everyday life and action shots as a Dallas Cowboys Cheerleader. You have less followers on the bird app (it is not X), you’re a little more…real, and as a bonus, your mom doesn’t follow you, so you feel like you can be a little more insane on there.

Although you’d probably apologize to her later – because one of your recent tweets is going a little crazy.

It didn’t start as anything crazy. Being a Dallas athlete, you kept up with nearly every sports team – the Mavericks, the Stars, the Cowboys, obviously, but you loved the Wings, too. You watched the WNBA draft as did countless others in the country.

When the Wings admin posted the Welcome to Dallas, Paige Bueckers! tweet, you’d giggled to yourself, mostly because you were nursing a Chili’s margarita and because she looked insanely good in the graphic.

You retweeted it, typing, welcoming you into dallas w open arms @.paigebueckers1 🤠

Then, almost like an afterthought, you commented on your own retweet, typing, and with open legs 🙏

You didn’t think much of it. Obviously. You didn’t have a huge following and if anyone asked, you’d just be kidding. The next ten minutes are peaceful as you finish off your margarita and scroll aimlessly through TikTok, keeping one ear out for the next draft pick. And then your phone starts blowing up.

A bunch of likes. A few people retweeting your second comment with various laughing or crying emojis. But what makes you pause is the notification reading Paige Bueckers has liked your tweet!

Oh. You click just to make sure, and – yeah. Definitely the one about having open legs.

Any other day, this would probably be mortifying, but today you’re a little emboldened by the margarita in your veins and you can’t help but think this is a little funny. You’ll probably regret it later when everyone remembers that you’re kind of a public figure and decides to flame you for being a little unhinged on main. For now, though, it’s not that big of a deal.

When you wake up in the morning to an unread DM from Paige – who’d followed you back, mind you – on your Instagram, you suddenly realize that it actually is a big deal.

Paige 💕: I’m flying into Dallas on the 23rd for media Paige 💕: If the offer still stands maybe you could show me around the city?

You stare blankly at your phone. Then you blink once. Twice. You power off your phone, press your pillow to your face, and you scream.

You weren’t serious, but you think you’re being presented with the opportunity – and, well, who are you to look a gift horse in the mouth?

After you finally come back to your senses, you reach for your phone again, navigating back to your DMs with Paige. You only have to contemplate for a few seconds before your fingers are flying across the keyboard.

You: i’ve been known to be a thorough tour guide You: let me know what your schedule looks like and i’ll show you the pretty parts of dallas

Her response comes quicker than you were expecting.

Paige 💕: Looking forward to it 🫶 Paige 💕: Not sure how Dallas compares to you but I can be open minded

Admittedly, you have to reread her message twice to fully grasp the cheesy pick-up line, but you hate the way it makes your cheeks flush. You’re not sure how to respond to that.

You settle for screaming into your pillow again.

The week passes by quickly. You and Paige talk — a lot — truly enjoying getting to know each other during your rare moments of free time. Paige is busy with flights and appearances while your schedule is packed with practice and learning the audition choreography for the next season of DCC. 

Despite yourself, you can’t help but think how nice it is. There’s no expectations. You’re both athletes with a combined two hours of free time. For now, you’re just content to see where this goes. You enjoy her company, and honestly, you’re really into her. Paige flirts relentlessly, but you can tell there’s an undercurrent of respect and admiration that makes you feel like that feeling is mutual, too. 

She texts you a picture of the Dallas tarmac when she lands on the 23rd, a coy reminder that you did promise to show her around. Paige has media for a good portion of the day, though, so you know you won’t be seeing her for a while. You tune in for a little bit of her rookie press conference, and no, you weren’t cheesing while listening to her speak. But if you were, that wouldn’t be anyone’s business but your own.

You don’t hear from her for the next few hours, which doesn’t bother you. You do get a call from one of your squadmates, Lielle, asking if you’d be down to hit the club before the DCC season starts – and who were you to say no to that?

You settle for a light, natural makeup look, throwing on a blue, mesh, halter corset top that sparkles in the light and a pair of cropped, white denim shorts. They’re long enough to cover what they need to, but it’s the perfect club outfit – something with the right amount of tease and will make you feel confident enough to truly let loose.

Lielle picks you up along with a few other of your friends who tease you relentlessly for your actions on Twitters – it’s no use defending yourself, although they’re nearly howling in excitement when you point out that Paige is in your DMs, so you’re probably doing something right.

You and your girls enter the club with high spirits, the atmosphere already electric, and two of your squadmates break away to find a table while you and Lielle make your way to the bar to order shots and drinks for everyone. Lielle leans over the bar, already laying it on thick for the bartender, who grins politely like he’s seen just about every variation of whatever game Lielle is playing.

On the bright side, he does end up discounting your drinks on account of being a DCC fan, which makes you think Lielle never truly had a chance, anyways – but a cheaper drink is a cheaper drink, especially in Dallas. Lielle walks away with a wink and the drinks in her hands as you remain to order something for yourself. The bartender has just slid the drink your way when you feel the heat of someone’s body next to yours. At first, you’re alarmed, but you soften when you hear their voice, followed by finally looking at their face.

“Didn’t expect to see you here.” In person, Paige Bueckers is so much taller than you’d anticipated, which is probably a really stupid thing to say for a professional basketball player. She’s tall, her cologne a heady scent of warm vanilla and something distinctly floral, and she rests her arm against the bar in a way that’s devastatingly casual and dangerously alluring. Paige is wearing a black and white striped Nike sweater, the very same she’d done media in, a look not befitting of the club but you can’t help but think about how perfectly her it is.

You crack a coy smile, taking a quick sip of your drink for some liquid courage, because Paige is staring at you like she knows exactly what she wants from you and your heart thrums because if she said the word, you’d be willing to give it to her. “What, is this place too scandalous for a cheerleader like me?” you joke, and the heat of her gaze travels down your body in one quick motion.

“Nah, nothing like that,” she assures you. “Just didn’t think that out of every club in this city, I’d be lucky enough to run into you my first night out.”

“Seems we’re both feeling a little lucky tonight, huh?” you say, and she laughs gently under her breath. Paige holds out a hand to you. In lieu of a shake, you settle for hugging her instead, which she relaxes into immediately, her hands resting respectfully at the small of your back. “It’s great to finally meet you in person,” you say genuinely, pulling away at the right moment. “You enjoying Dallas so far?”

Paige shrugs a little, a smile on her face and gratitude on her tongue when the bartender slides a drink her way, too. “Haven’t got the chance to see much,” she says honestly. “Was in media all day, then I stopped by Costco so my apartment looked a little less pathetic. Now I’m here. Something about rookie initiation, according to Rike, but I think she just wanted someone to buy her drinks.”

You laugh. “Look at you already taking care of people,” you comment, your grin widening at her playful expression. “You’re here with your team, then? Where are y’all sitting?”

Paige purses her lips, her eyes squinting as she peers through the dim lighting of the club. “I think over there?” she says, pointing at the VIP section towards the back. She’s closer to you now, her chin resting just above your head, and you follow her gaze. You can’t help your smile, something she picks up on immediately. “What’s funny?”

“I think your team’s already hitting it off with mine,” you say, easily spotting Lielle handing a shot to Arike and clapping when she downs it in one go. You don’t think Lielle is drunk yet, but she has a natural excitement and zest for life that makes her the easiest person in the world to befriend.

Paige huffs a little under her breath, amusement lacing the sound, and her hand finds your waist. “Must be meant to be,” she says to you. Despite yourself, you preen, your smile widening when her hand finds your skin. “After you.”

Paige walks almost protectively behind you, the crowd of club-goers parting instinctively for the both of you. When you make it back to the VIP section, both of your teams cheer – like they know something you don’t – which causes a blush to rise on your cheeks and a nearly smug expression to take over Paige’s.

Introductions are swift, if a little unnecessary. You’d run into many of the Wings players before, having made a genuine effort your first year as a professional cheerleader to show up to many of the Dallas sports games.

Before you know it, Arike has ordered more shots for the table, and Paige slides into the booth next to you with a dangerous glint in her eye and two shots of tequila in her hands. The table is lively, raucous, with Kelsey – one of your squadmates – going shot for shot with Aziaha James and Lielle and Arike instigating.

But here, now, in this little corner you and Paige have tucked yourselves into, you’re enjoying the intimacy of the moment far too much, feeling as though you’ve been afforded far more privacy than you actually have.

Paige presses one of the shots into your hands, a loose smile on her face. “To Dallas?” she asks you, raising her glass.

You tap yours against hers, a matching smile of your own as you agree, “To Dallas.” You down your shots in one go, the liquid warming your belly pleasantly. “And to Twitter,” you add a little jokingly, but your blush deepens when Paige smirks, raising a thumb to your lip to wipe away the excess tequila beading on your mouth.

She sucks her finger into her mouth, humming a little insufferably, and you’re burning for an entirely different reason now. Your gaze hones in on her hand, flicking between her lips and her eyes. And, sure, she was constantly flirting with you over text. You knew she was feeling you as much as you were feeling her – but to watch her behave so confidently in front of you, to unravel you like it was nothing… The confirmation makes you ache. It reminds you that you’re not the only one feeling the warm buzz between the two of you.

“You always that forward?” Paige asks you, referring to your tweet. “Or am I just lucky?” Her words are punctuated with a heated grin, one that makes you shift in your seat. You hope that she didn’t notice, but you see the way her eyes darken and how she leans in a little closer to you.

“Only when I’m tipsy, apparently,” you mutter. You glance up, taking in her expression, the curiosity and desire in her eyes. Your lips quirk into an amused smile. “But I don’t think I have to tell you about the effect you have on people.”

“Good thing I don’t really care about other people,” she says, her gaze dropping down again. You can’t tell if she’s looking at your lips or your chest, but it makes warmth bloom under your skin, anyways. Paige makes eye contact as easily as she drinks you in. It’s disorienting, unwavering. It’s almost like you can see exactly what she’s thinking by the way her pupils dilate. Her fingers brush against the inside of your wrist, setting each and every one of your nerve endings on fire. “But you? Didn’t know I was affecting you like that.”

“Oh, you’re not,” you laugh, which just makes her laugh, too, something dangerous flashing in her eyes. Dangerous because you know you’ve already given in. Any other attempt at saving face or trying to look a little less down bad is just meant to make you feel a little bit better – like she hadn’t already won you hook, line, and sinker the moment you promised to show her around Dallas. 

“Lying is a sin,” Paige murmurs.

“Lust, too,” you retort.

Paige’s subsequent grin is a little too wicked. “Touche,” she agrees, and you can’t help but lean into her touch when her hand splays over the expanse of your toned waist, her thumb brushing your skin like she’s trying to memorize every shift in your muscles. Her voice drops a few decibels, only loud enough for you to hear as she presses in closer to you. Your hair raises when her lips ghost across your temple, the shell of your ear. “You’re already burning for me, though. Probably soaked through these fucking shorts, aren’t you? So why pretend you ain’t?”

“Paige,” you whisper, your heart beating a little faster, pounding against your ribcage. Your hand finds hers, linking your fingers together, and you don’t stop her when she maps out every inch of skin not hidden by your top. If anything, you arch into it slightly, enjoying the heat of her palm against your belly. She grins like she knows, like she’s already called the Uber and is thinking about how she can ruin you in the car without alerting the driver.

“Jus’ say it, mama,” she murmurs, her breath hitting your ear. You should feel some type of way for how easily your body betrays your brain, pressing further into her without your permission. “Tell me what you want and we don’t gotta play these games in front of your girls.”

Your mouth opens, the words getting caught in your throat when Paige finally grips the meat of your thigh with her hand, not hard enough to bruise, but enough to claim.

But before you can give into the feeling of it all, the bubble of peace between the two of you is broken by Lielle exclaiming, “Who wants to do body shots?!”

Breathless, you glance up at Paige, who stares back at you with mischief. She squeezes your thigh gently, whispering, “Be good,” before tugging you to your feet and towards Lielle, who holds the salt, lime, and the bottle of tequila. You sigh a little, already feeling like you could combust.

Your combined teams cheer when Paige volunteers you. Her smile, which is borderline smug and nearly possessive, makes your skin burn, but her eyes betray the ease in her features. She scans her teammates like she’s waiting for one of them to think that they could take her place.

Kelsey clears space on the table while Lielle uncaps the bottle of alcohol. One of the other Dallas rookies – JJ, you think her name is, extends a hand to help you onto the table, but all it takes is one glaring look from Paige to make her raise her hands in surrender. Paige steps up, her gaze dark, and she grips your hips, raising you onto the table with a weightless ease. Her eyes never leave yours, watching you with rapt attention as you lean back, getting comfortable.

“You good?” she asks, her hand resting over your stomach, which rises and falls steadily under the heat of the moment. You nod quickly, needing her hands on her body more than you think you need air, and she allows herself a quiet smile as she reaches for a lime wedge. Gingerly, she holds it out to you. Your teeth part at her wordless command, clamping down on the lime, trying not to wince at the taste. Her fingers linger on your lips, pupils blown wide, and it makes warmth coil low in your belly when you realize just how reciprocated this feeling is.

She reaches for the salt next, uncapping it, too, and meets your eyes with one last unspoken question. You don’t hesitate before you nod, uncaring of where she lines up the salt. You are surprised when she leans down, licking a stripe between the valley of your breasts, wetting the skin there so the salt can stick. You hardly register the wolf whistles around you, far too focused on the satisfied, focused grin on Paige’s face as she sprinkles the salt on your skin.

Finally, Lielle hands over the bottle of tequila, and you try to steady your breathing as Paige pours a generous amount in your navel. A drop slips, trailing down and soaking into the fabric of your shorts. You swear you can hear Paige’s breath hitch, but the club is too loud for you to be certain.

Lielle is probably recording. There’s no way she isn’t – she’s the life of the party, and whenever you wake up tomorrow, you’re sure you’ll find the video of Paige doing a body shot off of you on her close friends. But right now, when Paige is staring at you like you’re the only person in the room, like she can’t wait to get you alone and ruin you? You can’t think about anything but the blonde athlete and how willing you are to let her unravel you.

With one last glance to check in on you, Paige leans over you, caging you in with her arms. Her head dips down, licking the salt off of your chest with a devastating slowness. You catch the edge of her grin as she trails her lips down your torso, settling at your belly and drinking the tequila directly off your stomach.

Her tongue probes for the last drop and she presses a farewell kiss to your skin that makes your breathing stutter. Then, finally, she makes her way back up to your lips, her skin a little flushed, and she parts her lips to take the lime wedge in between her teeth.

But Paige isn’t through with you. You watch with wide eyes as she punctures the flesh with her teeth. She takes the lime wedge in between her fingers and with her free hand, she cups your jaw, her thumb brushing against your lip. You adhere to the silent demand, your lips parting again, and she presses down on the bottom row of your teeth with her thumb, keeping you open as she squeezes the juice of the lime into your mouth.

You shudder, eyes slipping shut in a non-physical pleasure – Paige hasn’t even touched you yet, but you feel like you’re ready to fall apart. The lime juice makes your face contort from the sourness, but you hardly think about it when your eyes blink open once more to take in Paige’s lazy expression. She’s already gone – her smile wide, reverent, satisfied, proud, and she discards the lime peel.

Paige removes her finger from your mouth, closing your jaw for you, her features softening with pride as you swallow the juice dutifully. You barely hear her whisper, “Good,” before she helps you off of the table, steadying you when you sway a little unsteadily, and the both of you make every effort to ignore your friends.

They don’t focus on the two of you for too long – JJ is helping Kelsey onto the table to keep going, so you take advantage of their distraction and pull Paige down to your level by her collar. She grins insufferably, like she knows she’s teased you to the point of no return. Her smile widens when you demand, “Take me home. Or we’ll cause a scandal in the middle of this club.”

Her lips brush against yours. “Uber’s already here,” she informs you, her expression far too satisfied. If you were any less pussy drunk, you’d probably hate yourself for being too easy, but all you can think about is how her skin would feel against yours.

You let her pull you through the club. You let her hands linger on your hips when she helps you into the Uber. And without so much as a noise, you part your legs for her in the car, letting her fingers trace the inside of your thighs discreetly. Paige doesn’t give you what you need – you knew she wouldn’t.

You keep your reactions tempered, even when she leans in closer to you, her nose brushing against your ear as she whispers filth that the driver is none the wiser to. And when you make it to her apartment complex, you hardly hear the driver’s farewell before she guides you out of the car, through the apartment lobby, and into the elevator.

Paige’s grip on your hips is tight, like you’re not sure if she’s trying to keep you close or trying to restrain herself from defiling you in the elevator. Either way, you don’t mind. You press your hips to her front, grinning in satisfaction when her fingers tighten and her breath hitches, a groan building in her throat. The ding of the elevator breaks you both from your stupor and you follow her to her door, watching in amusement as she fumbles with the key in her haste.

“Do you remember my tweet?” you ask a little offhandedly, sliding your fingers under the hem of her sweatshirt. She curses under her breath when your fingers find her waist, splaying across her abdomen – it’s more for your pleasure than it is hers, feeling her muscles jump under your hold. Her eyes are a little wide and blown out when they meet yours.

“S’all I’ve thought about for weeks,” she confesses, finally getting the lock to turn. Her words give you pause as she throws open the door. Catching you by surprise, she picks you up, one arm looping under your ass, and your arms slide around her neck for stability as she shuts the door behind her, making sure to turn the lock back.

It’s all speed from there. Paige kicks her shoes off in the entryway, her hands gripping the back of your thighs as she blindly walks the both of you through the hallway towards the bedroom. You silently thank her coordination as an athlete, more so when she starts mouthing at your chest like it’s been the only thing keeping her going. Her tongue darts out, wet against your skin, and she hums against your breast as she tastes the residual salt from the shot and the sweat. Paige nips at your skin and holding onto her tighter with a wordless sigh is all you can do to keep it together.

Finally, she finds the bedroom door, throwing it open without a care in the world. Paige deposits you safely on bed and then almost falls over herself following – the dichotomy makes you ache, the way she’s so desperate to get her hands and mouth on you, but the evident care she makes sure to treat you with despite her need. You want her to turn you out in every single way she’s thought about since draft night, but the respect is touching.

She clicks on the dim lamp at her bedside, her eyes returning to your figure when her vision adjusts. She shakes her head like you’re not real, her hands touching your hips, your waist, your breasts covered by the thin material of your top. You’re sure she’s burning this image into her mind forever – you’re doing the same. You may never be able to forget the image of Paige Bueckers hovering above you, eyes wild and gone, messy like you’re already five rounds deep and not just pent up from fucking around in the club.

The first press of her lips against yours makes you keen, arching into her exploring hands while yours cups her cheeks. You’ve thought about this for weeks, too, how it would feel to have her on top of you like this. She tastes like a tequila shot and something distinctly fruity from the cocktail she was sipping on. Combined with the lime juice on your breath, your kiss is intoxicating for several different reasons, and the heat coiling in your belly reminds you of how badly you want this.

She tugs your bottom lip between her teeth, pulling it back and letting it snap back before her lips find every inch of your skin. The hinge of your jaw, the tender spot on your neck that makes you thread your fingers through her hair to pull the tie loose, the dip in your throat where your moan vibrates against her lips. Paige is ravenous. Like there’s a million different things she wants to do to you before the sun comes up. You’d let her.

“Thought about this forever,” she murmurs, her voice hoarse and wrecked. Your breath stutters, back arching to help her untie your halter top and letting her pull it off you. She goes almost painfully silent when she takes in your breasts fully, your pebbled nipples. “Fuck.” Her curse sounds like a filthy prayer, one that you’d give up almost everything to respond to. One of her large hands splay over your breast while her mouth finds the other one, alternating between kneading and sucking and here – you’re sure you could fall apart completely, your hips jumping up for contact.

“You don’t know what that stupid comment did to me,” she continues, almost to herself, but she knows you’re listening. She feeds off of the way your breath hitches as she pulls back long enough to rip her sweatshirt and sports bra off in two quick motions, the chains around her neck tangling briefly before they trail cold caresses across your stomach when she leans back down to take your skin in her mouth. Your jaw falls open in pleasure, gripping onto her, the sheets, anything to stay rooted.

“Looked at your page, and those–” Her fingers find the waistband of your shorts, popping the button and pulling the denim off while she rambles. She falters when she takes in the white lace covering your body, a low, wrecked groan spilling from her lips at the sight of the wet patch at the apex of your thighs. Paige brushes her fingers against you, relishing in the way your hips jump and your whispered plea.

“Those stunts you do,” she continues finally. “That fucking uniform is sinful, you know that? Got myself off thinking about you, how good you’d be. You offered yourself up and all I could think about at the presser was how many different ways I could get you to come for me. I wonder if I could do it without my hands.”

You’re not coherent enough to tell her she could probably do it with words alone, but you reach for her and pull her back to your lips, kissing her hungrily, like you’re on death row and she’s your only chance of salvation.

Your hands explore while her kiss disorients you. Finding the waistband of her pants, you reach for the belt, undoing it. Paige helps you pull her pants off, leaving her in a dark pair of boxers. Her skin is impossibly warm against your palms as you press your fingers into the small of her back, undoubtedly leaving marks.

She pulls back to trail her lips down your body, sucking marks everywhere, her hands holding you like she’s afraid you’d float away if she didn’t keep you rooted.

Paige doesn’t make any effort to strip you out of your damp underwear – if anything, she stares at it like she’s more proud of it than getting drafted first overall, and she presses her lips to the skin just above your waistband until it blooms red and purple. She soothes it with a kiss, her expression far too smug and satisfied.

“You’re soaked,” Paige murmurs, pressing her thumb to your cunt again, her grin widening when you moan, your hands shooting down to grip her hair. She makes eye contact with you and sucks her thumb into her mouth, eyes slipping shut as she tastes you. You can’t help the curse that tumbles from your lips. “That ‘open legs’ offer must have been a cry for help, huh?” she teases, but her voice is rough, like the very taste of you is a drug and she’s addicted. “Nobody else doin’ it for you?”

“No,” you admit, cheeks burning under the weight of your confession. The truth is you’d stopped looking after a while, but now, with Paige tucked between your legs and staring at you like you’re the most beautiful girl she’s ever seen, you briefly consider the fact that she’s going to ruin you for anyone else. For yourself.

She grins again. “Shame,” she murmurs, her lips trailing down to the inside of your thighs, where she presses gentle kisses. “Someone got to you before me and they couldn’t even make it worthwhile.”

She nips at your skin, the pain blooming into pleasure instantly. Your breathing comes to you a little faster the closer she moves to your aching cunt, but she soothes you with a hand to your belly. “I got you, mama. Gonna be the best you’ve ever had. Swear.”

You don’t doubt it, your head already swimming, and she presses one last kiss to your clit through the damp material of your underwear. It makes you jolt, but she steadies your hip with her hand as she pulls the lace to the side slowly. You can’t help but gaze down at Paige, locked in on the way her eyes glaze over with desire when your cunt is finally revealed to her.

You don’t think you’ve ever been this wet in your life. Maybe it’s been a fire that has been slowly burning ever since she initially hinted at flying out and taking you up on your offer. Now, all you can focus on is the way her hands grip your strong thighs, holding you open as she dives in to lick a long, slow stripe up the length of your slit.

You both moan in tandem – yours of pleasure and hers in awe. You’re dripping onto her comforter, hardly able to feel much remorse about it, but something tells you that Paige is really fucking into the fact that she has you so pliant beneath her.

Her tongue is exploratory, drinking in every drop of your arousal, her brows pinched together as she focuses on building you up. Her nose brushes against your clit while her tongue finds the source, licking you clean like she’s stranded in a desert and you’re the only thing that could satiate her thirst.

She’s wild, her tongue everywhere all at once, muttering messily into your cunt about how you “taste so fucking good,” but you’re sure you fall apart completely when her lips close around your clit and she sucks.

Your brain is mush. You’re not sure if you want to keep your eyes on her or let your head fall back into her pillows, unable to process the pleasure fully.

Paige makes the decision for you when your eyes slip shut and she nips at your clit gently – not enough to hurt (even though it sends a surge of pleasure up your spine, anyhow), but enough to get your attention.

The message is clear – she wants your attention. Thinking about how she’s probably getting off from you watching her makes the heat coil in your stomach, ready to snap at any given moment.

You tangle your fingers in her messy hair, pressing her deeper into you, head tipping back in pleasure when she doubles down on her motions. Paige is ravenous, tongue circling your clit, never once stopping or slowing.

Not until your thighs are shaking from pleasure. Not until the tears bead at your waterline. Not until she encloses her lips around your clit again, her cheeks hollowing from the pressure, and releasing you to drag the arousal from your entrance to your clit, coating it completely.

You’re wholly unprepared for the first press of her fingers against your entrance. Paige doesn’t push in – not yet. She drags her fingers through your folds, soaking them, listening and looking for your reaction as she probes deeper.

The first finger sinks in until it reaches her knuckle, punching a breathless moan out of you, and she curls her finger as she pulls out. She’s a quick study – learning what you like and how much pressure she needs to unravel you completely. But she’s slow, not adding in another finger. You get the message instantly when her eyes find you, her gaze dark and imploring.

Not above begging, your voice is hoarse, rough from your moans, your lips split-slick and bitten. “Please, Paige, keep going,” you request, clenching around the single finger in you. “More, please, fuck–” The words get caught in your throat when she smiles against you, taking your clit in her mouth again just as she slides in a second finger. Too far gone, you can’t help the repeated, delirious ramble of “Thank you, thank you, thank you,” or the choked out, “So fucking good.”

The more vocal you get, the more she gives you. Her lips and her tongue speed up, flicking against your clit with a devastating intensity. Paige’s finger’s scissor inside you more firmly, sliding in deeper with every thrust, particularly timed with her mouth. It’s a Pavlonian response. The pleasure is overwhelming, and you can’t find it in yourself to be too embarrassed by how loud you are.

You chant her name, breathless little sounds that sound more like pleas than sentences. The grip on her hair must be painful but she never slows. She’s fucking you closer and closer to the peak, and when it finally arrives, warning her is all you can do.

She’s heedless, her pace somehow intensifying even more, and you come with a sob that’s a mix of her name and a string of curses as the pleasure washes over you.

Paige doesn’t stop, drinking in every drop of you like she’s parched, her fingers slowing as they work you gently through the shockwaves. You’re breathless, stuttering through the euphoria, gratitude lacing your words.

When she pulls away, the bottom half of her face is slick with your arousal, her tongue darting out to catch the edges of her lips, but it’s like drops of water in a bucket. For all intents and purposes, she’d been drowned, but her grin tells you she would have been more than happy to go out that way.

Boneless and limp in bed, she trails her lips up your body until she finds your lips, kissing you deeply and allowing you to taste yourself on your tongue. The taste is heady, something you’d probably attribute to the taste of her, too, and you can’t help but moan against her lips, your body burning under the touch again.

“Don’t think I’m letting you tap out so soon,” she murmurs, squeezing your waist and peering down at you. “We haven’t even started.”

“Greedy,” you say teasingly.

Her subsequent grin is sharp, nipping your lip gently. “And proud,” she states, already leaning over and digging through the drawer of her nightstand. When her hand comes back into view, she’s holding a strap and the harness.

The sight of it makes your brows raise – it’s modest in size, but it’s still bigger than anything you’ve ever taken, both in length and girth. “What?” she asks, a smirk appearing on her lips as she fastens the harness around her hips.

“It’s big,” you point out obviously, but the heat is already licking at your skin again as you stare at it longingly.

“Everything’s bigger in Texas,” she retorts. The strap hanging from her hips makes your mouth water, and you suppose this is what you wanted anyway – for Paige to ruin you. She glances at you curiously, able to read how your hesitation washes away. You’re safe with her. She wouldn’t hurt you. That thought alone makes you a little more hungry for it. “Trust me, you ain’t gotta worry.” She drags her fingers through your folds again, raising it to the lamplight and showing you how they shine. It makes you blush, but her smirk is a little insufferable. “But, I mean…if you wanna try something smaller–”

“No,” you disagree a little too quickly. She raises a challenging brow, one that infuriates you. She’d been mean all night – teasing you and working you up. And, sure, she delivered, but you think that she deserves to be knocked down a peg or two.

You wrap your legs around her waist, and in a quick motion, you flip the both of you over, straddling her waist with your hands on her chest. She’s a little breathless, eyes wide and pupils dilated, yet you can spot the impressed look in her gaze. “You don’t think I can handle it?”

“Didn’t say that,” she says, her eyes drinking you in, the fucked out look on your face and she bruises covering your skin. Her hands find your waist, pulling you onto her fully – onto the strap – and she guides you into a slow grind, taking back the control seamlessly as you gasp. Paige grunts, too, the strap pressing back into her clit, and the fact that she’s feeling as good as you are makes you tremble with want.

“You insinuated it,” you argue, a little miffed.

She grins like your indignance is cute. “Just tryna be in you, mama,” she says, tugging you down a little harder, and it punches a moan out of you. “You gonna let me do that or are we gonna sit here and argue all night?”

You narrow your eyes at her, but you don’t say much else, and she draws her bottom lip between her teeth as she gazes down at where your centers connect. “That’s what I thought.” Her words are mostly said to herself.

She grips the waistband of your underwear and pulls them down your legs – you adjust to help her pull them off, and she throws them to the side.

Now that you’re completely bare, she pulls you down onto the strap again, your arousal coating the silicone. The unrestricted contact makes you shiver and you loop your arms around her neck for stability while one of hers finds your waist again.

With her free hand, she reaches for the base of the strap, guiding it to your entrance and holding you steady – the tip of the strap brushes against you, but she doesn’t allow you to move.

Her eyes are zeroed in on where you’re clenching around nothing, your arousal leaking out of you. Then, finally, she pulls you down slowly, controlling each and every small movement. Your breath hitches when the head breaches inside, pressing into you, and Paige kisses all over your chest to soothe you.

“Good, that’s it,” she murmurs, lips encircling a nipple as she pulls you a little further down. The stretch is delicious, splitting you open, her hands mapping out your skin. She grips the flesh of your ass in one large hand, the other reaching around to rub featherlight circles on your clit to distract you.

The sensations are overwhelming in the best way possible. Her mouth drags wet kisses across your body while she listens for your reaction. Paige lowers you further down, drawing a drawn out moan from you, and you feel her grin against your breast as you tighten your grip around her neck, pulling her tighter against you.

“Perfect girl. Taking me so well,” she coos. Her body is impossibly warm against you and you can feel yourself relaxing into it, wanting to sink down completely, but she doesn’t let you. “Want you to feel good, baby. Don’t rush it.”

Still holding onto your annoyance from earlier, you can’t help your slight eye roll as you nip at her neck, sucking a matching hickey into her skin. She hisses, letting you fall another inch before gripping your hips tightly. “Would feel good if you just fucked me,” you state, staring at her with an expression that’s borderline pathetic. “What’d you say earlier? Just tryna be in you?”

“Think you have a patience problem,” she muses. “I’d heard so much about this southern hospitality bullshit growing up in the north, but it seems like you got a manners problem, too. I gotta teach you how to say please and thank you?”

You barely resist a sigh. Instead, you let your lips pucker out in a pout, the motion drawing Paige’s attention immediately. You press closer to her, your breasts dragging against her chest, and she sighs from the feeling. “Please, Paigey?” you beg in a near whimper, taking the hitch in her breathing as a sign that you’re doing something right. “Just want you to fuck me. Been good for you all night, haven’t I? And I promised to welcome you to Dallas. Let me make you feel good.”

Her eyes narrow slightly, but the way her throat bobs tells you she’s minutes away from flipping you over and making you forget your name. “You’re dangerous,” she whispers.

“I’m yours,” you respond, and that’s enough for her. Paige drags you down the last few inches, bottoming out. You moan into her neck, the hand at the small of your back pressing you into her. You’re sure that you’re soaking her lap, but judging by the way her hips rut up into yours, she likes knowing how fucked she has you.

Her hands settle at the bottom of your ass, pulling you up as she mouths at your chest, her tongue darting out to taste your skin. You sink down on the strap again. The sound is obscene, drawing a gasp from you, and you repeat the motion.

Up, then down. Up, then down, beginning to set the pace for yourself, but making sure you grind at the bottom of your strokes to make sure that Paige is getting off too. Her eyes are hooded, darting from your face, to your chest, to the apex of your thighs where you’re soaking the strap.

“Fuck,” she groans, her voice rough, and it sends white hot desire up your spine. She speeds up your motions, the veins on her hand protruding from the effort of keeping you upright, her jaw unhinging in awe as she stares at you. 

You allow yourself a small smirk, your right hand tilting her head back, revealing the expanse of her throat as you grind down onto her. With your ears so close to her mouth, you can hear every stutter in her breath, every jilted moan she tries to hold back, the hiss of pleasure when you bite down, sucking dark marks into her skin. 

When her motions start becoming desperate, her hips bucking up into yours in time with every drag down like she’s trying to chase her high, you reach down for her hands, tangling your fingers together and pressing them into the pillows over her head. 

“Really?” you murmur, your lips ghosting the dip in her throat. “You’re this close just from helping me get off?”

She laughs a little, something that sounds like a sob mixed with a whine, and her jaw falls slack in a low groan when your lips attach to the sensitive spot below her ear. “Can’t help it,” Paige manages. Her lips are slick, bitten raw, so you kiss her deeply, swallowing the sound she makes when you grind down especially hard. “Think you like it, though.”

“Mmm,” you hum. You speed up your motions, feeling your thighs and your stomach burn with the effort, but also feeling yourself teeter on the edge of crashing down completely. Your thrusts draw out another moan from Paige, one that makes you grin – because she’d tried so hard to keep herself together, to pretend she was here to fuck you and not the other way around. “Think I just like you.”

That makes a lazy smile appear on her face. Paige pulls one of her hands out of your grip, inching towards your throat and tangling in the necklace there. “Yeah?” she goads, her tone a little insufferable. “Didn’t – fuck – didn’t think I affected you.”

You’re still rutting against her, sweat beading on your temples as you argue, “You don’t.”

But that just makes her grin turn a little more smug. She releases your necklace, her fingers pressing lightly into the sides of your throat, squeezing once in warning. It makes your hips stutter, your breath catching. “Keep lyin’, mama,” she mutters, something dark in her eyes as her fingers trail down your body. One tweaks a nipple, kneading a breast as you gasp. Then, she goes lower still, bracing her large hand over you while her thumb finds your clit, rubbing messy circles through the slick there.

You lose your rhythm again, whimpering, but you keep going despite the exhaustion. It’s less about your pleasure now. You need to get Paige off, to tear down that ego of hers, to silence her for once. Even as you stare down at her, your eyes a little hooded, you realize she enjoys receiving as much as she enjoys giving, and there’s truly no winning with her – she’s getting off either way. 

“Actin’ like I don’t know you already,” she continues, her thumb as ruinous as her hips – as ruinous as her words. “What you like. What you need.” You could fall apart like this – her words picking you apart piece by piece, her thumb reminding you that she has you right where you want her. Paige gazes up at you, her pupils blown wide, but you can make out the challenge in the blue of her eyes – she’s daring you to get smart again.

But you’re just as competitive as she is. Without faltering in your movements, you lean slightly, reaching for the cowboy hat perched on her nightstand. It has Paige stitched on the bill. Her jaw falls slack again as she watches you slide it over your head.

“You talk too much,” you retort, and then you’re doubling down again. You can tell the image of you wearing Paige’s hat is doing something to her – the way it bounces in time with your thrusts, combined with the wrecked sounds leaving your lips, the slick sound of the strap deep inside you, the fact that Paige wants you so bad it makes her stupid. 

It doesn’t take much longer after that. You and Paige were already pent up. Her thumb quickens on your clit, her free hand gripping your hips tight enough to leave a bruise as she drags you up and down relentlessly, her own hips meeting yours. You can tell she’s getting close when her breathing turns ragged and her face burns red. You’re right there with her, digging your nails into her shoulders for stability as you push yourself to your high.

Part of you expects Paige to open her mouth again, to say something slick that would leave you trembling, but you don’t give her the chance to. You pull her face to yours, silencing your cries with her lips. You shiver when she bites down on your bottom lip harshly, soothing the sting with her tongue. “‘M close,” you manage breathlessly, holding onto her tightly – feeling as though your orgasm would wreck you completely. 

“I know,” she murmurs, her voice choked. “Let go, mama, I’m right here.”

So you do, the pleasure washing over you completely as you cry out, sagging onto her body bonelessly, the cowboy hat falling off to the side of the bed. Paige drags you against the strap, riding out the high, her jaw slack in wordless pleasure while her body burns. She doesn’t still until you push her hands off of you, the overstimulation buzzing under your skin.

Your thighs are still trembling, your breathing uneven. You hardly have the energy to slide off of the strap, so you settle for holding onto Paige, tucking your head into the crook of her neck where sweat glistens and the lingering scent of her cologne remains. You shift, feeling the soaked comforter beneath both of you. It’s enough to make you groan.

But then Paige is shifting, too, the strap brushing against a spot inside you that punches a moan out of you. You don’t have to look up to know she’s smirking. “Chill,” you admonish, your body still sizzling. You don’t know how she still has the energy and the stamina to go after she just turned you inside out, but she moves her hips again, on purpose this time, and the heat coiling in your belly returns tenfold. “You’re insatiable.”

“Look who’s in my bed,” she says as if it explains everything. You just shake your head, amused by her. Paige’s fingers trail down your sides, brushing against your skin while she presses featherlight kisses to your temple, your cheeks, the hinge of your jaw. “Know you’ve got one more for me, don’t you?”

You can’t find the words, but you don’t need to. You grab onto her chain – mostly to hold her in place, and you kiss her – deep, lingering, soft despite the moment prior. She grins against you, sliding the strap out as she maneuvers you. The emptiness makes you sigh, but the shift doesn’t take long. She angles you until you can see your bodies in the mirror across her room, your breath catching at the insinuation.

You watch through the mirror as she reaches for the cowboy hat again, settling it over her messy curls. Her smile is determined – like she’s not quite satisfied, not content with the two orgasms she’d pulled from you; ravenous like she can’t wait to have you again. It shouldn’t turn you on like it does, but the flame is licking at you once more and you can’t help but succumb to the fire.

She wraps her right arm around your waist, pulling you up to a kneeling position while she settles in behind you. The strap brushes against you. The sensitivity makes you jolt, but Paige soothes you with a hushed murmur, her hand pressing against your stomach and keeping you tethered. “Want you to watch,” she whispers in your ear. Her right hand abandons your waist to hold you by the jaw, gently tilting your head up until you make eye contact through the mirror.

You’re rendered breathless by the sight – Paige’s body eclipsing yours, the hickeys adorning your skin, the slick between your thighs that shines from the lamplight. Paige isn’t much better, either. Her hair is a mess, the hat on her head skewed to the side, her neck littered with your teeth marks, skin shining from exertion. For stability, you hold onto the arm that’s wrapped tightly around you, pushing back against the strap.

“Can you do that for me?” she asks, pushing her hips forward, dragging through your folds. You nod quickly, letting out a soft whine when the tip of the strap catches your sensitive clit. “Keep your eyes on me or I’ll stop.”

“I will, Paige, promise – just…please–”

She hushes you again, kissing your neck. “I got you, baby. Relax for me, okay? Gonna give it to you. Just need you to be good for me.” You nod again, melting into her body, and with the hand not holding you upright, she guides the strap to your entrance. You moan softly as she slides inside with little resistance, bottoming out as she murmurs, “That’s it, perfect girl. You take me so well.”

You can’t muster the words to respond to that, so you lean your head on hers when she drags the strap out, then pushes back in with a devastating slowness that you feel throughout your entire body. Your body is still buzzing with oversensitivity, but the slowness of her thrusts helps to ground you.

She glances up to the mirror to ensure you’re still looking at her – which you are, enraptured and unable to look away – before she trails her lips down your neck, pressing gentle, wet kisses to your overheated skin.

She’s softer now. Soft in a way that makes you clench around the strap breathlessly, tilting your head to give her more access to your neck. She recognizes that it won’t take much to build you up again, more focused on making sure you enjoy every second – every motion, every push and pull of the strap. Paige plants a kiss on every hickey she’d left on your body, her actions borderline reverent in a way that makes you want to come for her again and again and again.

With one arm still wrapped around your chest, holding onto your jaw, the other wraps around your hips, holding you by the stomach.

Unable to look away, you tighten your grip on her arms, trying not to fall apart too soon. Your stomach coils, already close, but Paige moves slowly, her thrusts hitting deep, and you’re all too content to float along the current of pleasure. Her lips still ghost across your body, licking the salt off of your skin, pressing gentle apologies to the dark spots on your neck.

“You want more, mama?” she murmurs in your ear, a gentle check in despite the question. You hardly have to think about it before you nod. With the hand braced over hers, you drag her left hand down, her fingers finding your clit with ease.

She doesn’t apply much pressure, just enough for you to feel it without overpowering the sensations. You don’t let go either, guiding her motions, moving it further down to gather more of your slick before bringing it back up to circle your clit.

The slide makes it impossibly sweeter – she tightens her circles, pushing deeper inside you with the strap, the tip brushing against the spongy spot inside of you that makes you keen.

Paige doesn’t slow. She doesn’t speed up. She keeps her pace deliciously consistent, the strap dragging in and out of you deliberately, her fingers working you up in tandem.

Her free hand keeps your gaze locked on the mirror, watching her as she kisses your neck, the shell of your ear, listening to her breath heavily as if she’s feeling everything you are, too. That thought alone makes your hips stutter, pressing back into her.

She soothes you with gentle whispers. “So good for me, baby,” she’d say, or she’d time the circling of your clit with a deeper thrust, murmuring, “You feel me? Want you to feel good.” And the stupid hat makes you unravel a little bit more – it hangs off of her head loosely, threatening to fall at any moment, but all you can think about is how you rode her wearing her hat, how she claimed you in the club and how she made you fall apart wearing something with her name on it. You’re hers now, and honestly, you don’t hate that idea.

It doesn’t take much longer before your eyes are slipping shut, confessing, “Close, P,” in a hoarse voice. The sensations are overwhelming – her hot skin pressed against yours, the strap sliding through you and hitting spots you’d never knew existed, the maddening feeling of her thumb against your clit, her breathing against your ear, the pounding of her heartbeat against your back revealing just how close she is to falling apart, too.

“Okay, baby,” she whispers, her motions never slowing, kissing your neck again. But she presses her fingers a little more firmly to your clit, her free hand tapping against your cheek to gather your attention.

Your eyes blink open, finding the mirror again, the ruined look on her face. She looks desperate – not to get off, but desperate to watch you get off. “Want you to watch yourself.” Her voice is a little broken, almost begging, and it makes your breath catch in your throat. “You look so pretty when you come for me, you know that? Wanna watch you do it over and over and over again.”

“Paige,” you gasp, the sound coming out like a half-sob, half-whine, the pleasure building and the heat coiling.

But she hardly hears you, her eyes glazed over and pussy drunk. Her jaw hangs slack like she’s the one being fucked, her breathing uneven and heavy. “You feel so good,” she rambles. “Like you were made just for me. Can’t get enough of you. Please, mama, wanna see you fall apart for me. You’re so good, so fucking perfect–”

The coil snaps, white hot pleasure coursing through your veins, electricity down your spine, and all you can do is sag back into her one final time, moans tumbling from your lips while she works you through the aftershocks.

Her hips and her fingers slow, murmuring incoherent sentences into your ear, her words dripping in both gratitude and a satiated desire like watching you get off finally quenched a thirst she’s been harboring for years.

You don’t have to say anything, either – it’s like she knows your body by heart now. Gingerly, she slips the strap out of your soaked cunt and detaches her fingers from your sensitive clit. As much as you’d love to feel her skin against yours, her hips dragging against yours, you can barely keep your eyes open. The final aftershocks dissipate, your thighs calming, the pleasurable fog in your brain clearing.

“You still with me?” she asks softly, smoothing the hair at the crown of your head with her clean hand.

At that, all you can do is muster a laugh, your eyes opening blearily. “Yeah,” you say, “no thanks to you, though.”

“Hmm,” she scoffs, amusement in her eyes. “Coulda sworn this was exactly what you wanted. You know, open legs and all.”

“Alright,” you deadpan, attempting to roll on your side, but you can’t summon the strength. You settle for some weird half angle that’s hardly worth the drama of the moment. “Goodnight!”

“No way,” Paige laughs. “C’mon. I need you awake. Lemme run you a bath and change these sheets so you can rest, okay? You good with that?”

You meet her eyes again, your smile softening at the gentle earnestness on her face. If she hadn’t already ruined you before, you’re sure you are now. But there’s something in her eyes that promises this might not be a one night thing after all. “Yeah,” you whisper, drawing her closer to plant a chaste, affectionate kiss to her lips. You feel her grin. “You’re gonna have to carry me, though.”

“Whatever you want, baby,” she assures you, crawling off the bed and unbuckling the harness on her hips. She throws it haphazardly into the adjacent bathroom and you try not to laugh when something clatters to the floor. Paige picks you up with ease, one arm looping under your knees and the other wrapping around your back. She sets you on the edge of the tub as she heats up the water, helping you into it gingerly and tossing in a eucalyptus bath bomb for your aches. Before she leaves to swap the sheets, she plants a soft kiss onto your forehead.

You soak for a few moments until she returns, offering you a small smile before she slips in behind you. Her body is almost as warm as the water and twice as soft. She massages the shampoo and conditioner into your hair and jokingly points out her assault on your neck with a mixture of pride and concern. You tell her she’ll have to buy your concealer in bulk but when she murmurs, “As long as I get to see you again,” you find that you don’t really care about the marks on your neck as long as you get to keep this annoyingly charming, devastatingly beautiful athlete in your life.

Paige helps you out of the tub, your eyes drooping once more, dressing you in a pair of her boxers and an oversized t-shirt from her college days. She guides you back to bed gingerly, the sheets fresh and clean, and you have your head on her chest before she’s even got her head on the pillow. She grins because it doesn’t bother her at all. You smile because her heart’s pounding and you think you know why it is.

Just before you fall into a blissful, exhausted sleep, Paige’s voice cuts through the fog once more. “About that offer,” she whispers, tapping on the leg you have slung across hers. “Does it expire?”

She jokes, but you can hear the truth of her question beyond it. She’s not referring to your legs. Not literally.

Your smile is tired, but it’s no less affectionate. “For you?” you echo, drowsiness lacing your tone. “No. It’s renewable.”

“How long?”

You’re quiet for a beat, just enough to consider your words.

Is this something you want? Relationships can be hard. Tricky. But something about Paige tells you she’s in for the ride. That you can trust her – with you and your heart.

So you press a kiss to the hinge of her jaw, feeling her cheeks stretch with a smile, and you make her a promise:

“As long as you want.”

[sunniques]

— 𝐜𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐲 𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐟𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐤 !

your stepdad shows you how much he loves to have you by his side.

❥ PAIRING: choi seungcheol x female reader

❥ GENRE: stepdad au, smut

❥ WORD COUNT: 10.3k

❥ CW/TW: stepcest, infidelity, age gap, reader can be picked up by cheol, grinding, begging, breeding kink, daddy kink, spanking, nipple play, thigh riding, oral sex (f & m), unprotected sex, recording during sex, riding, office sex, morning sex, creampies, overstimulation, cockwarming

NOTE: PLF MASTERLIST. don’t like, don’t read. as always, huge thank you to my oomf @wonustars for beta reading <3

Seungcheol is in love. He’s deeply, irrevocably in love with an amazing, beautiful woman who makes him feel more alive than he has in years. Falling for you was the easiest thing he ever did. It was so easy that he didn’t realize it was happening until it was too late. When he thinks back, he can pinpoint the exact moment this feeling started to develop. It began after the first time you two had sex; on the night you snuck into his room and helped yourself to his cock like it was already yours.

Just below the surface, Seungcheol knows the entire situation isn’t right. Honestly, it’s something that probably should’ve never happened, but he doesn’t care. For once in his life, he’s going to be selfish and indulge in his depraved desires without caring about any of the potential consequences. Maybe he’s lost his mind, but if loving you is insanity, he never wants to be sane again.

There is one problem, though. Seungcheol still hasn’t told you about these very real feelings he has for you. Not in the way they were meant to be expressed, anyway. Saying it during or after sex isn’t as intimate because of the fact that those are the only times he’s said those three little words to you. The last thing he wants is for you to think that he’s love bombing you or you thinking it’s the sex talking. While you are the best sex he’s ever had, being with you is more than that. 

There’s also the (not so) small fact that you’ve never said those words to him. The most he’s gotten is a love you or love this from you. Seungcheol isn’t the insecure type, but the longer he thinks about it, the more it makes him think you might not love him how he loves you. Part of him knows you feel something for him, but there’s also a small doubt in the back of his mind that maybe you’re not serious about being together.

It’s not like he doesn’t understand if that is how you feel. A young woman with her entire life ahead of her might not be ready or willing to settle down so quickly. Seungcheol isn’t foolish enough to think that you’re willing to put off your goals and dreams just for him. Not that he would want you to, but the thought of you picturing a future that he’s not a part of breaks his heart. Even the mere thought of not being important to you kills him, and he tries his best not to think about it constantly.

Unfortunately for him, he’s forced to confront this very real possibility when he unintentionally hears you talking on the phone with one of your friends one day. 

After a long meeting, he came home with the urge to hold you in his arms and decompress. Seungcheol doesn’t think twice about heading straight for your room with the intention of relieving all of his stress with your help. Your bedroom door is ajar, and just before he can walk in, he realizes you’re on the phone. You have it on speaker loud enough for him to hear everything.

“Did you buy your ticket already?”

You hum as you roll onto your back and look up at the ceiling unseeingly. “Yeah. I bought it a while ago.”

A high pitched squeal of excitement cuts through the peaceful silence. “Okay. Don’t forget Chan and Vernon are coming too, so make sure you pack that cute two piece you have—you know, the black one.”

Seungcheol feels his heart drop because he knows exactly the swimsuit your friend is talking about. It’s the same one that drove him crazy on your vacation last week. The worst part about this entire situation is not the fact that you’ll be around guys your own age, but the fact that you never mentioned going on a trip at all. It makes the most insecure part of him start to spiral, and he can’t stand by anymore and listen to you be so excited for this trip you never bothered to tell him about. 

So he leaves quietly, taking his heavy heart with him.

It doesn’t take long for you to notice something’s bothering Seungcheol. He’s been a little distant, and even though he never opted out of spending time with you, you can tell his mind is somewhere else whenever you two are hanging out.

“Cheolie, what’s wrong?”

Seungcheol snaps out of his self-deprecating thoughts and realizes the movie on the TV is paused. Your eyes shine with concern as you stare at him. His heart throbs painfully because there’s this glimmer of hope he feels that he knows might end up turning into disappointment. Are you really worried about him, or is he deluding himself into thinking that you care more than you actually do?

“Nothing.” 

The response slips out before Seungcheol can fully think it through, and immediately he can tell that you don’t believe him. You sit up and turn to face him fully. The incredulous look on your face does nothing to take away from your beauty. He almost smiles because in this moment, it feels like you actually care about him. 

“You’re lying,” you say, voice bordering on demanding. “Did something happen?”

Seungcheol can’t look away from your piercing stare. He’s never been one to hesitate, but he’s also never felt like this about anyone before. You have his heart in your hands, and he knows that no matter what he does, he’ll never get it back. The craziest part is that he doesn’t want it back. Because he gave it to you, and Choi Seungcheol would never take back something he gave you.

“Why didn’t you tell me you’re going on a trip?”

You’re floored by the words that come out of his mouth. Not because of the question itself, but because of how vulnerable he sounds when he says it. His eyes are shining, but not in the way you love. You can tell he’s holding back tears, and you can’t stand the crushed look on his face.

“Is that why you’re upset?” You ask tentatively. “Because I didn’t tell you?”

Seungcheol looks away. Your tone isn’t mean or dismissive, but he’s still embarrassed by how upset he’s gotten over you not mentioning your plans to him.

“I just– Why wouldn’t you tell me? Do I mean that little to you?” 

“What? How could you even say that?” You exclaim in disbelief. “You know how much you mean to me!”

There it is again. You have no problem telling him that you care about him, but you still don’t say the words he’s dying to hear. And once again, it makes his chest tighten in the worst way.

“Yeah, but you don’t love me, right?”

A thick silence follows his words. Suddenly everything makes sense to you. For some reason beyond your belief, Seungcheol doesn’t know about the very real and intense feelings you have for him. You almost laugh at the absurdity of it. How can he not see just how deep your feelings for him are?

Seungcheol can’t deny that he loves the expression on your face. Despite everything, the look in your eyes makes Seungcheol start to doubt all the distressing thoughts plaguing his mind. Had his insecurities gotten the best of him and made him overthink about your feelings for him? It’s starting to really feel that way.

Without another word, you climb into his lap and take his face into your hands. His wide eyes stare into yours as you gently stroke his cheeks. “Is that what you think? That I don’t love you?”

Seungcheol swallows thickly before he answers you.

“You never say ‘I love you’ to me, and maybe that’s my fault because I’ve never properly told you that I’m in love with you, but—”

“You’re in love with me?”

You relish in the way Seungcheol’s eyes widen. A cute blush spreads on his cheeks when he realizes what’s slipped out of his mouth. He doesn’t regret it, though. Especially when he sees how you light up at his words. Your eyes are shining with joy like he’s given you the only thing you’ve ever wanted. There’s also a hint of vulnerability that he doesn’t miss. It makes him realize he’s been overthinking and worrying for nothing.

“Of course I am. How could I not be?”

Seungcheol is more genuine than you’ve ever seen him, and you know right then that no one will ever make you feel as loved as he does. You grin and smash your lips onto his, your movements full of passion and need. He responds to your kiss eagerly and with a deep groan. His tongue slips into your mouth as his hands slide around your waist to pull you closer to him. Your soft lips feel like heaven, and Seungcheol wonders how he could’ve ever doubted that you don’t feel the same way.

When you pull away, you cup his face again. “I love you too, Seungcheol. I’m in love with you.”

The smile you get is blinding, and at that moment you know you’d do anything to keep that look on his face. 

“Yeah?” Seungcheol can’t keep the grin off his face. “You really love me?”

“More than anything.” You tell him honestly as you caress his face.

“Tell me again,” he demands cutely.

“I love you, Choi Seungcheol. I love you so much.”

His pretty smile is bigger than you’ve ever seen it. Seungcheol is a perfect picture of happiness, and you have to commit the beautiful sight to memory. He starts pressing sweet kisses all over your face, telling you how much he loves you between each one. You laugh joyfully as he holds you close. Nothing will ever compare to the feeling of having such an amazing man love you, and you wouldn’t trade him for anything in the world.

Seungcheol’s bright eyes look up at you with ardent love. The emotion is undeniable now, and it makes your heart soar all over again.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about the trip,” you say as you run your hands through his hair. “I was going to tell you about it once you told me about your business trip.”

Seungcheol pouts at you. “I didn’t mention it because I was going to cancel—”

“I know,” you say in a chastising tone. “And although I love spending time with you, I don’t want you to always cancel your work trips because of me. Your work is important which is why I decided to go on the trip in the first place.”

Affection tightens around Seungcheol’s heart. He can’t believe he ever thought you might not love him when it’s so obvious that you do.

Seungcheol buries his face in your neck as his body slumps in relief. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you, baby. I just hate being away from you.”

“I do too,” you admit easily. “You have no idea how much I want to be with you as much as possible. I just don’t want you to think I’m clingy.”

Seungcheol pulls back and keeps speaking to you with his cute pout that you love so much. “I like clingy. I’m yours so you can cling to me all you want.”

You grin slyly. “Okay. Just don’t regret it later.”

Seungcheol smiles and presses another chaste kiss to your lips. “Never.” 

For your stepdad, the small peck is not enough. He’s quick to deepen the kiss into a heated one. You moan when his tongue slips into your mouth. With a quiet whine, you grind down on the growing bulge pressing into you. Seungcheol groans as his hands slide under your shirt to undo the clasp of your bra. Immediately, you take your shirt off and discard it on the other side of the couch. Seungcheol tugs your bra off before he shoves his face between your soft tits. 

“God, I love these pretty tits,” Seungcheol’s hums as he mouths at your skin.

Big hands palm your tits, making you keen into him. Seungcheol smoothes his thumbs over your nipples over and over until they’re hard.

“Oh fuck,” you mewl as Seungcheol plants wet kisses on your stiff buds. Your hands tighten on his hair as he starts to lick and kiss your nipples.

“Fuck, baby. You just love it when I put my mouth on these pretty nipples, don’t you?” 

You moan in response as his grip on your tits gets firmer. Seungcheol squishes them together and starts to suck on both of your aching buds at the same time. You cry out and grind down on his huge bulge. Wetness pools in your panties as he starts nipping and biting at your stiff buds. He runs his tongue over your nipples until you’re crying out loudly.

“Daddy,” your eyes roll back as you go to tug on his hair. “Fuck. I love it when you suck on my nipples.”

Seungcheol groans. “Yeah? Daddy’s going to have to play with these pretty tits every day from now on then.”

Your clit pulses with need as you grind down on him. “Yes, daddy. Please.”

As always Seungcheol’s cock throbs when you ask him so politely. His hand slips into your panties to feel how wet you are. His groan is deep as his fingers glide across your slippery cunt, parting your needy slit to tease your clenching hole.

“You’re already so wet, baby,” he hisses in delight. “This needy little pussy needs my cock, hm?”

“Yes, Cheolie. Need your big cock to split me open,” you moan as you start to grind down on his fingers.

“You know I can’t deny this greedy pussy anything. Take off your clothes for me.”

With an excitement that makes Seungcheol’s heart swell with affection, you get off his lap to take off the remainder of your clothes. He does the same, discarding his shirt and tugging down his pants enough to free his cock. You salivate at the sight of his fat dick resting against his thigh. It’s throbbing and leaking and all ready for you to take.

You eagerly sit on his lap, mewling softly when you feel his cock throb and pulse against your cunt. Seungcheol reaches down and strokes his dick for a bit before he smacks it on your pussy. Slowly, he notches the leaking tip at your hole and guides himself in the first few inches before moving his hand away to grab your hip while the other reaches around to grope your ass.

“Come on, baby. Sit on it. Sit on your stepdad’s cock,” he grunts. Dark eyes watch your pretty tits as you slowly sink down his length. “Goddamn. This tight little pussy was made to be stretched out like this.”

Your eyes flutter shut once you feel him bottom out inside your cunt. No matter how many times you take his dick, you’ll never fully get used to the amazing feeling. “It’s so deep, Cheolie,” you whine wantonly. “Fuck, you feel so good.”

Seungcheol’s cock throbs, and he bucks his hips upward to fuck you even deeper. The rough motion makes you fall forward with a loud cry. You grab his shoulders and bury your face into his neck with a needy whine. Big hands grope your ass before they start bouncing you up and down on his cock. Your moans are loud and impetuous as he starts pumping his girthy cock into your gushing hole.

“Rub your cute little clit for me, princess,” Seungcheol directs you, not wanting to stop squeezing and kneading your plush ass. “Make yourself cum on daddy’s cock. Fuck. Squeeze my dick nice and tight, just how I like.”

Your hand quickly slides down between your bodies. A choked moan slips through your lips when your fingers circle and press down on your swollen bud. The ministrations make your velvety walls flutter and tighten on Seungcheol’s aching cock.

“Good fucking girl,” your stepdad groans as he slaps your ass. Once again, your cunt clenches in delight as you cry out. “Fuck, baby. Can’t wait to cream this sweet little pussy.”

You moan with every brutal thrust of his cock, wanting nothing more than for him to creampie your cunt. Seungcheol’s fat tip hammers against your g-spot ravenously, driving you closer to your orgasm. He slaps your ass repeatedly until you’re pushed over the edge. Your entire body trembles as your pussy milks his cock. 

Seungcheol moans when he feels your orgasm soak his dick completely. He fucks his cock deeper into your tight pussy until it’s fluttering around him all over again. With a deep grunt, he buries himself inside you and shoots his hot load into your cunt. Thick ropes of cum continuously stuff you to the brim until his seed starts to drip down his cock.

You sink into his chest, fully sated and satisfied. Seungcheol caresses your back and sides, making no move to slip out of you.

“I want to sleep with you tonight,” you mumble into his skin. “And every night from now on.”

Seungcheol grins and kisses your temple sweetly. “Don’t worry, baby. I already have plans to do just that. I’ll make it happen tonight.”

You hum in content, loving how he’s always so quick to give you what you want. Just knowing that you’ll be able to sleep beside him whenever you want now makes you feel deeply satisfied and excited. Finally, you’re a step closer to living the life you want with the man you love.

That night, you hear the argument between your mom and Seungcheol. You can’t keep the smirk off your face when he tells her to go to the guest bedroom downstairs and stay there from now on. Guilt and remorse are things you’re unable to feel, especially when you get a text from Seungcheol telling you you’re free to come to the master bedroom whenever you want.

Despite wanting to go right away, you wait a bit in case your mom comes up to your room. She never does. 

With a sly smile, you practically skip down the hall to the master bedroom. Seungcheol is beaming and smothers with sweet kisses when you close the door behind you. The feeling is sweet, and you immediately pull him into a needy kiss. Seungcheol groans into your mouth and starts to walk you to the bed, his lips never leaving yours.

You smile into the kiss when he pulls you closer to him. He’s just as excited as you are, and neither of you care that your mom is downstairs. You giggle against his mouth when he falls back into the bed and takes you with him.

“Let me make you feel good, daddy,” you purr as you reach down to cup his cock.

“God, baby,” Seungcheol groans as you squeeze and rub his clothed dick. “You know I can never tell you no.”

You grin triumphantly and sit up to take your sleep shirt off. Seungcheol groans when he sees you’re completely naked underneath. You tug on his own shirt and he’s quick to discard it. He’s eyes flutter shut when you start trailing wet kisses down his chiseled torso. You slowly inch your way until you get to his sleep pants. Impatiently, you tug them down until his cock springs free.

It’s already starting to leak with precum, and you don’t wast any more time to get your treat. Seungcheol groans deeply when you lick up every last drop from his leaking tip. He feels your lips and tongue gently kissing and caressing at his fat cockhead, lathing the skin before lapping up the drippy precum from his slit. You repeat your sinful motions before taking him fully into your hot, wet mouth.

“Mmh, good girl,” your stepdad groans as you start bobbing your head up and down his cock. 

Soft sucking noises sound through the room as you moan around his cock. A syrupy-like pleasure builds in Seungcheol’s lower abdomen as you eagerly suck his dick. He can only moan because it just feels so fucking good. A gentle hand settles on your head, lovingly combing through your hair as you slobber all over his thick cock.

You can feel yourself getting wet, especially when Seungcheol starts thrusting up into your mouth. The tip of his cock is hitting the back of your throat and makes you gag around him. You eagerly sink more of your mouth onto his leaking cock. A guttural moan slips out of your stepdad’s lips when he feels your spit dripping down his throbbing length.

Seungcheol’s fingers twitch in your hair as his pulsing tip brushes the back of your throat. He groans when you pull of his cock and plant adoring kisses all of his cockhead before dragging your lips down his thick cock. You sensually lick a broad stipe all the way up to the tip. Seungcheol’s cock throbs as you slide it between your lips again. A thick glob of precum spills out and you’re quick to lap it up. Seungcheol’s eyes roll back as you keep sinking your hot little mouth onto him.

At this point, he’s leaking with so much precum that you didn’t doubt he’ll give you your treat soon. You lick up every drop like it’s the tastiest thing ever. 

“Baby,” Seungcheol moans as you continue to suck his dick eagerly. “Fuck. I’m gonna cum, sweetheart. Be a good girl and swallow daddy’s load.”

With a wanton moan, you take his fat cock deeper down your throat until you’re choking around him. The feeling makes the coil in his stomach snap immediately. Seungcheol groans loudly as his balls tighten. His cock throbs and pulses wildly as he pumps a load of hot, sticky cum down your throat. You swallow everything he gives you, loving how ropes of his thick cum fill your mouth until it’s spilling around the edges and dribbling down his cock all the way to his heavy balls.

“That’s it, brat. Swallow all of daddy’s cum,” Seungcheol hums lovingly as he caresses your cheek.

You don’t move right away. Instead you pull off and start to kitten lick his twitching cock until all of his cum has been cleaned off. Seungcheol’s eyes are full of affection as you sit up. His eyes are drawn to your wet lips and blown out pupils. Just seeing the remnants of cum on your mouth makes his cock throb all over again.

Seungcheol sits up and smashes his mouth against your, moaning as you respond with as much eagerness. Without breaking the kiss, he lays you on your back and starts to trail wet kisses down your body, just like you did with him.

“Been thinking about eating your little pussy since earlier,” Seungcheol confesses as he spreads your legs. “Finally I can make you feel good in our bed.”

You moan when he presses a sweet kiss on your pulsing clit. He gently nips it, making you writhe in pleasure.

“Please,” you whine, bucking your hips impatiently.

Seungcheol groans and starts to make out with your pussy. He does it sensually, lips moving all across your heat. The way he sucks and licks your slick pussy lips makes you arch into him. The cute little noises you’re letting out are enough to get him hard all over again.

When he pulls back and spreads your lips with his fingers, he moans at seeing the amount of juices leaking from your pussy. Seungcheol greedily fucks his tongue into your wet hole, eager to lick up all your wetness. You moan loudly and roll your hips into his mouth, eyes crossing when his nose bumps your clit.

Your stepdad groans when you thread your fingers in his hair and tug on it. He fucks his tongue deeper into your fluttering hole, grinding his nose on your puffy but. Seungcheol’s dark eyes watch you fall apart, and it only makes him hungrier for you. He runs his tongue through your wet hole and immediately presses his face deeper into your cunt.

His hot tongue licks every inch of your dripping pussy. He laps up all the arousal leaking from your clenching heat. Seungcheol presses his nose down on your sensitive bud until you’re crying out for him. He can’t hold back his smirk when he feels your body start to tremble in his hold. Your grip on his hair tightens to make sure he keeps his mouth on your pussy. 

“Daddy!” You mewl, hips rolling into his mouth. “Gonna cream all over your tongue. Fuck!”

Seungcheol’s dark eyes watch you carefully as you arch up into his thrusting tongue, head grinding against the mattress as you moan loudly. He hums against your cunt, lapping up every drop of your orgasm. You’re completely satisfied as he places another kiss on your pulsing clit. He moves up over your body slowly, kissing every inch of your soft skin as he goes. 

Seungcheol goes to kiss you with a groan, pleased at the way your lips part to eagerly kissing him back. His fingers trail down to your pussy, smirking when you whine into his mouth. It’s loud and needy.

“Shh, baby,” Seungcheol’s tone is deep and wicked when he pulls away. “Your mom’s downstairs. You don’t want her to come up here and interrupt us, do you?”

You choke back another whine, clit throbbing underneath his fingers as he circles the swollen bud over and over again. His fingers dip down to part your pussy lips, gathering slick between the digits before sliding back up to rub wetly across your clit. He lightly spanks your cunt, making you buck your hips forward. 

“Daddy,” you whimper, nipples hard and aching in need. 

Seungcheol slides his cock between your juicy lips, soaking his fat length in your arousal. You moan so loud that your stepdad has to cover your mouth with his free hand while he uses the other to press his tip into your clenching hole. 

“Greedy little girl,” the way he laughs in your ear makes your cunt throb. “You don’t even care that you’re gonna get us caught, baby.”

Seungcheol’s eyes flutter as more of your juices coat the tip of his dick while he presses himself deeper into your fluttering walls. You can’t stop whining against his palm as he works his cock all the way into your pussy, burying himself balls deep with a low groan. 

“Fuck, baby. You’re extra tight and wet tonight,” Seungcheol grins as he starts to roughly thrust into you. “You like that your mom can walk in on me stuffing your hot cunt?”

Your loud wail is muffled by his hand, and Seungcheol groans as his cock start to slam into your g-spot. He smirks when you start to grind up to meet his thrusts. Your stepdad slows his movements to gently grind his cock inside your soaked hole as his fingers tease your pudgy clit. 

“Should I just let you make all the noise you want?” He says as he fucks his cock deeper into your hot cunt. “Let your mom hear how much you like your stepdad fucking your tight little pussy?”

Pleasure pools in your stomach at the thought, pussy fluttering wildly around his cock. The milking compression of your cunt makes Seungcheol take his hand off your mouth. The thought of his wife hearing your filthy moans pushes him closer to the edge.

“You like that?” He laughs as his cock throbs. “Fuck. Nasty little brat. Of course you do.”

“You do too, daddy,” you moan quietly. “I can feel your cock throbbing inside me like it’s going to explode. I know you wish your wife could see me like this—stuffed full of your cock.”

Seungcheol groans deeply, fucking into you harder. His hips pick up speed as he fucks into your squelching pussy like a feral animal. “Goddamn. You’re squeezing me so tight, baby. Gonna make me creampie this cute pussy.”

Your stepdad doesn’t care that your moans are getting louder. He keeps slamming his cock into you with the goal of making you cream all over him. He feels your orgasm approaching from how much you’re tightening around him. Seungcheol’s fingers stop their slow pace and start rubbing your clit in tight little circles that make you squirm against him. 

“Cum for me, baby,” your stepdad grunts. “Cream all over my cock with your sexy little pussy. Show daddy how good he fucks you.”

Seungcheol rocks forward one more time, brushing across the spongy spot in your cunt. That band of arousal snaps. Your cunt clamps down on his cock like a vice, walls pulsing and fluttering around his fat length. 

“Daddy,” you whine into his neck, hips still fucking into his.

“Fuck that’s it. Such a good girl,” he whispers in your ear.

Seungcheol is close to his own orgasm, and he starts hammering his cock into your sensitive pussy. His fat dick is fucking into you so hard all you can do is whine and moan.

“Take daddy’s cum, princess. Fuck. Take it all,” he hisses as he buries himself to the hilt, cock pulsing as he shoots his load into your cunt. 

You whimper softly when you feel hot rope after rope of his thick cum filling your pussy to the brim. After a few minutes, he finally pulls out with a wet schlick. Cum drips from your used hole, and the sight makes your stepdad feral all over again.

Without warning, he shoves his cock back inside you. He stifles your cry of pleasure with a wet kiss. Your eyes roll to the back of your skull as he snaps his hips into yours with the goal of completely ruining you.

“Da-Daddy!” You squeal against his lips. “Y-Your cock—too much!”

“Don’t be a brat,” Seungcheol groans as his cock presses deeper into you. “Not when you love it every time I do this.”

He’s right, and the ring of cream on his cock growing thicker and thicker is proof of that. You love it when he pushes you past your limits. Seungcheol loves it even more, though. He’s completely obsessed with the way you tremble against him and how your desperate whines never stop. He loves seeing how worked up you get on his cock.

“Maybe I should get this on video, so you’ll never forget.”

He reaches for his phone when you clench around him in agreement. Seungcheol can’t believe he didn’t think to record your first night in this room together earlier, but better late than never. He aims his phone where you two are connected, capturing the leaky mess that’s spilling from your cunt and down your ass. He has no doubt the video is perfectly catching your needy whines and the lewd squelching of your cunt. 

“Fuck, daddy. Hurry up and cum in me.”

Seungcheol grins deviously as your cream stains his cock. “Greedy little brat.”

It’s late when you two are done fucking. The thought of your mom was long forgotten. As you lay in Seungcheol’s arms (which feels more intimate than usual), you contemplate how you’re going to make sure you have him to yourself once and for all. You fall asleep easily as you picture a life where Seungcheol and you are living a happy life together.

You wake up feeling blissful, belatedly remembering why you’re not in your own room. A strong pair of arms pull you into a broad chest when you try to get up. You don’t try to fight the smile spreading on your face when you turn around in his arms to look at Seungcheol’s sleepy face.

“Morning, baby,” he murmurs. His voice is rough with sleep, making you press your thighs together. 

"Morning," you whisper, nuzzling into his neck.

Immediately, his hands go to your hips as he rubs his hard cock against your bare pussy. You sigh softly, noticing the tiniest bit of sunlight peeking through the blinds.

“We have a little bit of time before I have to be at work,” he kisses your neck as he rolls his hips to grind his cock against your slippery slit.

“Daddy,” you mewl, bucking forward with a whine. “Want you in my pussy.”

Seungcheol groans and rolls over until he’s on top of you, pressing your body down into the mattress. Your toes curl in anticipation as your pussy clenches around nothing. “Want me to fill up your cute little cunt?” 

You smirk at him. “I want you to breed me, daddy.”

“Fuck,” he hisses, rocking against you harder. His cock throbs and pulses as it glides between your puffy lips. “Daddy’s gonna make you feel so good, baby.”

With that, he ruts his thick cock against your slick cunt, fat tip pressing right on your clit. “Gonna fuck this little pussy nice and deep.”

You shudder, eyes fluttering shut as Seungcheol presses his cock into your drippy hole. He grunts, shoving himself as deep as possible until you're squirming from the pleasurable pain of his tip kissing your cervix. 

“That’s it,” he moans, “My little brat’s got the tightest fucking cunt.”

Your nails scratch along his back, making him grind even harder against you as your pussy squeezes around his dick rhythmically. Seungcheol fucks your pussy with slow thrusts, barely pulling out before fucking back into your pliant body. You lose complete track of everything, only able to feel Seungcheol’s cock stretches you open. He loses control as he bullies into your hot cunt over and over. 

All you can hear is skin on skin as Seungcheol stuffs your pussy with his thick cock. He moves his hand in between your bodies to rub at your swollen clit. You trade soft wet kisses, tongues slipping back and forth. With every thrust, Seungcheol drags his cock along your g-spot, sloppy squelching noises filling the room, disturbing the quiet ambiance.  

You���re in a daze, orgasm coiling tight in your lower belly as Seungcheol’s thick cock slips in and out of your clenching hole. 

“Daddy, I’m gonna cum,” you moan softly, pulling him in for another wet kiss. 

“Then do it, baby. Cum all over my cock. Squeeze me tight so I can breed this cute little pussy,” he groans, hips snapping harder against you.

He picks up his pace, fucking you quicker than before. His girthy cock plunges into your drippy cunt hard as his hand rubs your sensitive bud with firm circles. 

“Oh, oh!” You let out a breathy cry as your orgasm washes over you in a slow wave of pleasure.

“Fuck, baby. Tight little pussy feels so good.”

Your body is still thrumming with aftershock as you wrap your legs around his waist. Your pussy clenches down on his cock like a vice, milking him as he fills your cunt with hot, sticky cum.

“So much cum,” you mewl tiredly. 

Seungcheol bites your neck gently, cum leaking out around his thick shaft, “You love it.”  

The high of climaxing is still bubbling in your veins. “Mhm. Love it when you fill me up with cum.”

He pulls out with a hiss, loving how his cum drips out of you and down to your pretty ass. Seungcheol wishes that he could stay in bed with you, but you remind him that he doesn’t have that option. You laugh as he gets out of bed with a pout. Eventually, you get up to go shower in your own room, feeling more rested than you have in a long time.

After you shower, Seungcheol sent you a message to let you know he left first. You laugh when you read the sulky part of his message about not getting a goodbye kiss from you. With a promise to never let it happen again, you go downstairs and find your mom sitting on the couch. You’re surprised to see that she’s still home, but you don’t say anything about it.

“Hey, mom.”

“Sweetheart,” she smiles, but it looks forced. “Sorry I didn’t make any breakfast. I woke up late.”

Although her breakfast is never anything special, she never deviates from her routine. Not waking up on time is so unlike her, and you know it’s because Seungcheol kicked her out of their bedroom. You sit on the other end of the couch and watch her closely. She doesn’t look at you. Her stare is blank as if she’s completely numb.

“Are you okay, mom? You look—”

“Sweetheart,” she interrupts, not really hearing you. “Will you do me a favor?”

“Sure,” you say even though you feel unsure of what she’s going to ask for. “What is it?”

“Will you spend more time with Seungcheol? He’s been distant lately, and I…” she trails off, but you know what she’s trying to say.

“You think he won’t cheat on you if I’m around.”

Finally, she looks at you. “It’s only temporary. Just until he’s not mad at me anymore.”

You nod solemnly, barely holding back your devious grin. “Sure, mom. I’ll make sure to keep an eye on him.”

You press the button to the top floor, fixing your blouse and skirt so you look perfect. Ever since you decided to cling to Seungcheol to your heart’s desire, you’ve been visiting him at work whenever you had the chance. 

As always, you’re greeted warmly by the staff as you walk towards the back where Seungcheol’s office is. As the boss, he has a personal office away from where the rest of the workers are. You walk down the hall with a smile, excited to see your stepdad again. You knock on the door and wait for him to give you the green light to come in.

“Cheolie.”

Seungcheol smiles at the sound of your voice. He disregards the work on his desk and stands to greet you with a kiss.

“Come here, baby.”

He walks you over to his desk and pulls you down to his lap as he  sits on his chair. You’re straddling one of his thick thighs, and immediately you start to get wet. Your hands come up to brace against his shoulders while his slacks rub against your bare thighs where your skirt is hiked up.

Seungcheol presses a soft kiss on your neck, leaving a heated trail up to your jaw. Pulling back, you can see how dark his eyes have gotten. “I’m glad you’re here, princess. Been thinking about you all day.”

One of his hands tangles into your hair as he guides your mouth down to his. Your parted lips lets him slip his tongue into your mouth. Groaning, he grabs your ass with his free hand and urges you to roll your hips forward. You whine, feeling so hot and dizzy with arousal. Your clit pulses with excitement as you follow the guidance of his hand and start to grind your hips down into his leg. You eagerly suck on his tongue when he thrusts it into your mouth. You feel him groan low in his chest, and it makes you arch into him more. Whining, your hands come up to tangle in his messy blonde hair, tugging gently when he sucks on your tongue. 

“You taste so good, baby,” he whispers against your mouth before dragging his lips down your jaw. “Fuck. I’m gonna eat your pretty pussy right on top of my desk.”

“Daddy,” you whimper, rocking your hips forward, and he groans, hands sliding to wrap around your waist. “What if we get caught?”

“No one comes in here without my permission,” he reassures you. “So we can do anything we want, baby.”

“Don’t be so greedy, daddy,” you laugh through a moan as your stepdad trails wet kisses down your neck. “What will your subordinates think if they see me walk out of here with your cum dripping down my leg?”

Seungcheol groans against your soft skin, cock throbbing at the mere thought. He gives you a nasty smirk, and right then you know what’s going to happen next.

“They’ll think that you’re the woman who’s going to be my future wife.”

“Fuck,” your eyes flutter while he sucks on your neck.

“So let daddy cream your sweet pussy, brat. You know you want me to stuff you full.”

You whine in need. “Yes, fuck. Cream my little cunt, daddy.”

“Good girl,” he nips at your jaw. “I’m gonna breed you until it’s time to go home, baby.”

Your toes curl in your heels as you gasp and grind down on his thick thigh.

Seungcheol smirks. “You like that, princess? Like that I’m gonna creampie your needy cunt? Of course you do. Slutty little brat loves it when her stepdad breeds her, hm?” 

Your pussy flutters and throbs at his filthy words. You’re so turned on that you can’t hide your erotic expression.

“We haven’t even started yet, and you’re already acting cockdrunk,” he says through a laugh.

“Daddy,” you whimper as you roll your hips. “Want you so bad.”

“Look at the mess you’ve made, sweetheart,” Seungcheol groans as his eyes drop down to where you’re grinding your pussy on him. “Just look at how your needy little pussy’s soaking my pants. Fuck. That’s it, baby. Fuck yourself on my thigh like a good girl.”

Your nails dig into his shoulders, wrinkling the fabric of his designer shirt. It all feels so good, and you know you can cum from this alone. You whine, humping down onto his leg harder. Your juices pool in your panties and drip all over his pants.

“God damn, baby. Such a good fucking girl. Always so good for me,” he lets go of your hair to grab the back of your neck. “Always so eager to please.”

Seungcheol smirks as he slides his thumb into your panting mouth. He presses it down on your tongue and lets you suck on it before pulling his thumb free and smearing spit all over your lips. You whine again, desperate for him to give you what you want. Your stepdad lets you go only to tug your button up blouse open. 

“You have the prettiest fucking tits,” he groans as he pulls undoes you bra and tosses it behind him.

Your breasts are completely bare, aching nipples on display and eager for his touch. Seungcheol slowly drags his fingers across the swell of your tits. He circles your sensitive nipples, thumbs brushing the hardening buds. Your breath hitches as arousal pulses in your cunt.

“Cheolie,” you say to make him give in, but it only makes him want to savor you more.

“Daddy’s going to make a mess out of you just by teasing your pretty tits.”

Your back arches into him, pressing your tits into his hands. “Please, daddy. They’re so sensitive”

Seungcheol groans and gently tugs your nipples. He pinches them roughly before soothing them with slow drags of his fingers. Panting, your hands twist in the fabric of his shirt. Your clit throbs with every brush against your nipples, and you can’t stop keening into his touch. 

Everything Seungcheol is doing has more arousal pool in your panties. You’re so wet, and it keeps dripping down to where your stepdad’s pants are pressed against your pussy. You can see his big cock straining against his pants. A thrill goes up your spine knowing you’re the cause.

“Always so eager for me, princess,” he teases, voice deep and raspy. 

Seungcheol lifts you off his thigh and settles you right on his growing cock. Your hands go up to his hair and tug gently as you roll your hips on the huge bulge in his slacks. He gives your nipples a sharp tug then tweaks them as you writhe in his grasp.

“Just look at how wet you are, baby,” he groans, dark gaze drawn to the juices dripping from your panties. “Desperate little slut.”

A pleased sigh tumbles past your lips as you continue to play with his hair.

“You drive me crazy, Y/N.” Seungcheol growls out, letting his gaze roam across your swollen nipples and  up to your dazed expression. “Always acting so sweet and making me want to do the filthiest things to you.”

“Yeah?” You whimper excitedly.

“Don’t act like you don’t know what you do to me, sweetheart,” he says as he drags one of his hands from your chest up to your lips. You moan when he slips two fingers into your mouth. “Want to keep you on my cock all the time. Can’t stand not being inside you.”

Seungcheol presses his fingers deeper into your mouth. You whine and suckle on them softly, swirling your tongue around them like you would his cock. Your stepdad grunts and pulls them out with a soft pop.

“Touch me, daddy,” you demand through a throaty whisper as he drags those fingers down to your puffy nipples.

Seungcheol concedes immediately. He greedily mouths at each tit and sucks on your nipples, teeth catching on the sensitive buds until you’re clawing at his shoulders again.

“Such a bratty little girl,” he hums fondly, feeling you shudder at the endearment. “But always so good for me. You’ll be good for me this time too, right?”

“So good,” you promise with a grin.

That’s all your stepdad needs to hear to suck one of your hard nipples into his mouth as his hand teases across the other with quick flicks of his damp fingers. Like always, he goes back and forth, swapping sides as his dark gaze watches you bite your lip and toss your head back at the pleasure. Pulling away a little, Seungcheol grabs each tit and presses them together—an action he’s becoming fond of lately. He runs his tongue from one nipple to the other more easily, suckling them until you’re squirming in his lap.

Seungcheol groans low in his chest and rolls his hips to grind his cock against your hot, wet cunt, almost jostling you from his lap. In the same motion, Seungcheol’s sharp teeth tug on one of your nipples, earning a breathy cry from you. He swaps to the other nipple, using his teeth so you’ll reward him with more of those sounds. After repeatedly teasing each nipple with his teeth, you tug on his hair in a silent plea to slow down. He eases off from biting to soft, gentle sucks.

“Love your tits, baby,” he mouths at your nipples. “So fucking perfect.”

You cry out at the hot, wet suction of Seungcheol’s mouth on your sore nipples. Your back arches forward to press your chest closer to his hungry teeth and tongue. You start grinding your hips down, feeling him moan against your tits. With a sly grin, you repeat the motion only this time your clit grinds against Seungcheol’s slacks, earning a low cry of want.

“Cheolie,” you whimper.

He only hums in reply as he keeps up the hot suction on each hardened nub. You try rolling your hips again only to be stopped by a strong grip on your waist.

“I want you to cum from this,” Seungcheol grunts, voice deep as his tongue lashes against your abused nipple. “Be a good girl and cum for me.”

You mewl, clit pulsing in arousal. “Yes, daddy.”

A sharp tug of teeth on your nipple has you arching in pleasurable pain. Your hands slide up into his hair again to hold him in place so he keeps worshiping your chest. “So perfect,” Seungcheol murmurs, lazily mouthing his way up to your neck. “So sweet for me.”

The way he speaks against your skin and gently kisses across your collar bones drives you crazy. You feel dizzy and aroused. All you can do is grind down on the outline of his hard cock and tug his hair to pull him into a soft kiss. Seungcheol groans low in his chest, pressing you harder against him as he licks into your mouth. He teasingly nips at your bottom lip, sucking on it gently before slipping his tongue further in. You moan in response, loving the feel of his slick tongue teasing your own. His hands came up and grip your hair, tilting your head at an angle where he can kiss you even deeper than before.

Before long, the kiss becomes sloppy and wet, but neither of you care. You can’t stop whining in pleasure as his tongue fucks into your mouth and teases your own. Chest rumbling in pleasure, Seungcheol draws your tongue into his mouth to suck on it greedily. You slip your tongue away to pull his plump bottom lip into his mouth, nibbling gently before softly sucking. You drag your teeth aggressively against Seungcheol’s lip, tongue following in silent apology for the rough treatment. 

Your stepdad growls and pulls back far enough for you to let his lip go with a small pout. His cock twitches at how debauched you look. Pupils blown wide with lust and lips swollen. He moves his hands from your hair to grip your hips. You know his hold is tight enough to bruise, but you only moan in appreciation. Fingers start to roughly pinch and rub your swollen, sore nipples again. His dark eyes never leave yours as you edge closer and closer to orgasm. Your cunt is copiously dribbling with arousal.

“I’m so close, daddy,” you whimper, grinding down on him like an animal in heat.

Seungcheol smirks and decides to tease you a little. His fingers lightly grace the hard peaks, not fully giving them the attention they crave. His gaze drops from yours to take in the swollen nipples his fingers are touching. He groans loudly, knowing he can’t deny himself another taste. You grip his head as your stepdad starts eagerly lap at your nipples, running his tongue across each one before gently biting.

“Daddy!”

Seungcheol bites down harder on your left nipple as he gives the right a sharp twist. Your eyes roll back in your head as he gets even more aggressive. Harsh bites followed by a hot soothing tongue has your cunt dripping and needy.

“I know you like it rough, baby.”

You can only moan wantonly in reply since Seungcheol doesn’t let up the assault on your abused chest. You continue to gasp and moan in the otherwise quiet office. Your stepdad is being so rough on you, and you love it. Want him to pin you down right here and now. Make you cum all over yourself. Make you take his thick cock over and over until everyone in the building knows he’s fucking you.

Seungcheol groans against your tit as your orgasm abruptly hits you. He can feel you soaking his pants, and he helps you ride out your high by grinding you harder on his clothes cock. Without giving you time to recover, he hoist you up on his large desk, shoving his laptop out of the way. His dark eyes locked onto your white panties, nearly transparent from how wet they are.

“Daddy,” you hiss, squirming on his desk as he reaches under your skirt to tug your panties off. 

Clear strings of slick web between the fabric and your glistening pussy lips making him groan in his throat. 

“Fuck, princess. You always look good enough to eat,” he growls as he pockets your panties and pushes your skirt up.

You moan loudly when he holds your legs open and leans down to kiss your slit. His hands smooth over your thighs and press you open even wider.

“Want daddy to lick your pretty cunt?” He asks, teasingly blowing air on your pussy. 

“You promised, Cheolie,” you whine.

Seungcheol hums in acknowledgment as he licks up your slick coating your thighs. “Try not to be too loud, baby.”

With a smirk, he flattens his tongue and laps at your cunt, parting your folds and pressing the tip into your hole. A whine spills past your lips and Seungcheol groans. He hungrily licking into your pussy like he’s never tasted anything so good. Your stepdad sucks on your clit with the perfect amount of suction that has your toes curling and eyes rolling back. His hands come up and pull your pussy open, letting him lick and kiss and suck your swollen bundle of nerves until you’re humping his face.

“Fuck, daddy. You’re so dirty for eating your stepdaughter’s pussy on your desk. What would your workers say if they knew how much of a perv you are?”

Seungcheol moans, fucking his tongue deeper into your dripping hole. “They would understand if they knew how sweet my stepdaughter’s cunt tastes.”

You cry out when he starts sucking on your clit, eager to get you to cum again. His tongue flicks and laps at your puffy bud, loving how your juices flow right into his mouth. All it takes is an affectionate nip on your clit for you to cum all over his face. Seungcheol groans as you cry out his name, cock throbbing and twitching in his pants as you ride out your high on his tongue.

“Fuck, baby. You did so good for me.”

You mewl as your pussy clenches. The sound of his belt unbuckling sends a fresh wave of arousal over you. Lust builds within you as he pulls away from your pussy, lips and chins shiny with your release. He stands with his cock sticking out of his pants, leaking and pulsing with the need to be inside you.

Seungcheol slaps his aching cock down onto your cunt repeatedly. The lewd plap sound fills his office, making you buck into the heat of his dick. With a guttural groan he ruts his cock against your clit until you’re wrapping your legs around his waist to pull him closer.

“Daddy,”  you drag out the word through a needy whine as he teases you.

Your stepdad smirks as he swipes his fat tip up and down your folds. His cock notches against your cunt and he thrusts forward, but it slips upward, parting your slit to bump your pudgy clit. You whimper when you feel his balls press against your ass. With a mean laugh, he grabs the base of his cock and presses it against your hole again. He uses his thumb to press on the head of his dick, guiding himself slowly into your pussy, dipping it inside your hole completely.

You let out a sigh of pleasure as Seungcheol groans at the feeling of him fucking his cock deeper into you. Your pussy spasms around his girthy leg th once he’s buried inside you to the hilt.

“So fucking tight,” he growls, pulling his dick out halfway to thrust back inside. “So much better than your mom.”

Your pussy ripples and clenches while you cry out, his words burning hot in your ears. He doesn’t let you take any time to adjust to his size and starts a slow, hard pace, cock bullying in and out of your pussy and rattling his desk. Your stepdad pushes you flat against the desk and cages your body, dick grinding deep in your pussy and making you whine. The new angle has Seungcheol’s cock rubbing against your g-spot. Your eyes roll back as Seungcheol fucks your pussy with quick, rough thrusts.

“Dirty little slut. What would people say if they knew I was breeding my stepdaughter on my desk?”

You clench down tightly on his cock and he hisses, eyes staring down at you as he grins. 

“Filthy girl. You like that? Maybe we should let them watch so they can see how much you like your stepdad creaming your hot pussy,” he uses his other hand to slip between you and rub your clit. “The they’d know that you’re addicted to my cum.”

His fingers glide across your swollen bud in a way that has you crying out for him. That paired with the way his cock grinds against the spongy spot at the front of your cunt has your orgasm rolling over your body. He laughs delightedly and pumps his cock in and out of your squelching hole. 

“My little brat always cums so hard,” he grunts softly.

“Fuck. Gonna breed your slutty little pussy. Gonna knock you up.”

Your pussy flutters and milks his cock as he buries himself balls deep and shoots his load inside you. He drops his head into your neck as he slowly ruts inside your cunt, hot sticky cum flooding your walls until it's dripping out of your stuffed hole. The thought of you getting caught being creampied by your stepdad is making you horny all over again. 

The flex of his cock pulls your thoughts back to him, and you realize Seungcheol slowly thrusting in and out of your pussy, cum dripping all over his desk as he fucks his seed deeper into you.

“Fuck, baby. This sloppy pussy is making daddy hard again. You don’t care if I breed you some more, right, princess?”

You go to kiss him and mewl into his mouth. “Fuck me again, daddy. Don’t stop until I’m carrying your baby.”

Seungcheol groans and pulls out of you slowly, smirking when cum oozes from your cunt. He licks his lips and sits back on his chair. He effortlessly picks you up and sits you back on his dick.

“God, baby. Still so fucking tight,” Seungcheol groans as he smacks your ass.

Your stepdad doesn’t give you anytime to adjust and fucks up into you, grabbing your hips to pull you down at the same time. You scream from the feeling in your spasming cunt. Without waiting for your pussy to adjust, he pulls out halfway to bully his fat cock back into your aching hole.

“Fuck me, daddy,” you cry out. “Make me cream on your fat cock again.”

“Fuck,” Seungcheol pulls you down until his cock is buried deep in your pussy. “I’ll have to give my little brat what she wants, hm?”

With that, he pulls out until just the tip is teasing your wet hole then shoves his cock back deep inside your pussy. You’re moaning loudly and clinging onto his shoulders. A pleasurable heat is slowly building in your abdomen. You whine as your hips roll down onto the thick cock stretching you out. It takes you a while to realize Seungcheol stopped thrusting and now you’re the one fucking his cock.

“Good girl,” Seungcheol smacks your ass again and you moan. He smirks and starts guiding your hips to fuck harder. “Such a needy slut. Just for me.”

“Only for you, daddy,” you agree through a moan.

Your brain is completely fuzzy from how deep he is inside your cunt. Seungcheol laughs in absolute delight, loving how you’re completely his. His thumb brushes against your clit in slow circles, eager to see you make a mess on his dick all over again.

“Cream on my cock, princess. I want you squeezing me when I breed this little pussy.”

You moan loudly, hips gyrating down on his cock in excitement. “Fuck. Please, daddy!”

“That’s it, baby,” he groans low in his chest. “Keep working daddy’s dick. Fuck. I’m gonna creampie your sweet little cunt.”

Your eyes are rolling to the back of your head. With his hard cock fucking into you and his thumb rubbing dizzying circles on your clit, you’re close to reaching your climax. “Gonna cum, daddy. Gonna make a mess all over your big cock.”

Seungcheol hums in approval and pulls his thumb away from your clit before he spits on your pussy. The glob of drool slowly drips down your clit. He brings his thumb back to rub the slippery mess over and over and over into your sensitive bud. Your back arches, eyes rolling back, as you clamp down on his pistoning dick. Slick coats his cock as you cum, pussy walls squeezing him like a vice.

“Fuck yes,” he hisses, thumb still pressing into your clit. “Cream my cock so I can fill up your pretty pussy.”

Your thighs jump and twitch from overstimulation as he keeps teasing your clit and grinding his cock deep in your cunt.

“Take all of daddy’s cum, baby. It’s all for you,” he groans out, snapping his hips up into your squelching hole and pumping you full of hot cum.

You moan brokenly, pussy fluttering around his throbbing cock. At this moment, you know you won’t be able to get over the feeling of getting creampied by your stepdad at his work. You can tell Seungcheol feels the same way. He fucks his cum into you until neither of you can handle the overstimulation. 

Seungcheol leans back into his chair with a pleased sigh. “God. I should’ve had you come by sooner.”

Your thoughts are still hazy, so you only hum in response.

“Did I fuck you dumb, baby?” Seungcheol smirks, pinching your nipples until you’re squealing.

You go to get off of him, but he keeps you in place. “Stay.” He says tenderly. “I’m almost done with my work, then we can go home.”

You slump against his chest and nuzzle your face into his neck. “Okay.”

Did you see anything?

You roll your eyes as you shift on Seungcheol’s cock. He’s typing away on his computer, completely focused on his work.

No. He was just working.

“Are you okay, princess?” Seungcheol wonders suddenly, dropping his head to press a kiss into your hair.

“Yeah. Just updating your wife about how good you’re being,” you say with a laugh. 

Seungcheol hums and contemplates his next course of action. While he wants to get rid of your mom soon, he still hasn’t talked it over with you. He still doesn’t know how you’re going to feel about what he has planned.

“Cheolie,” you call, snapping him out of his thoughts. “I know you’re going to leave my mom, but before you do, let’s have some more fun first.”

You’re looking at him with a naughty grin, and it makes his cock throb inside you. Seungcheol smirks and kisses you deeply. You two really are meant to be together, and he’ll make sure everyone knows that sooner than later.

[babycharmander]

(THE BOOK OF BILL SPOILERS!!)

Thinking about Bill’s appearance at the end of the book…

[ID: BIll when confronting the Axolotl. He is shown in white silhouette, hovering in space, hovering neutrally. Notably, he has a massive crack running through his body, splitting him into multiple pieces, some of which are coming apart. /end ID]

When confronting the Axolotl, Bill is broken. The Axolotl even notes this: "Shattered, broken, not yet dead."

(Which, side note, makes me think Bill might have been lying about having been "kicked out of Hell," if he didn't actually die in Stan's head.)

[ID: Three pictures of Bill in the Theraprism. The first one shows him holding his hand against the side of his head in a dazed expression, sitting in a chair in a white padded room between a wizard with a clock for a face and Saturn (taken directly from the painting Saturn Devouring His Son). The second is a camera recording of him wearing an orange jumpsuit and kneeling in a cell, surrounded by arts and crafts tools, holding a pair of scissors, and beaming his thoughts frantically into a book. The third shows a mugshot of him staring blankly into the camera, his own name written on coded text below him. In all three images, he has a glowing scar where the cracks were, and is in one piece. /end ID]

When he's shown in the Theraprism, we see a glowing, static-y scar where the cracks were. The scar crosses his entire body (and even crosses to the other side of his eye without affecting it!), but he's actually whole, keeping himself together.

But then...

[ID: Two pictures of Bill from the last pages of the book. In the first one he is facing forward and holding up one finger, his eye reddened, his entire form glitching, and his crack is notably worse than prior, cracking through his eye, multiple smaller pieces drifting away. In the second one he is staring blankly at the viewer, his arms hanging limply, his eye wide and blank, the crack worse than the previous image, with more pieces floating away. /end ID]

In the last few pages, we see the scar is gone and the cracks are back, and even more of him is breaking away, including parts of his eye. It's especially bad in the last image, with even more pieces of him breaking away.

Also noteworthy is that the static texture behind him seems to be the same as the blood sample the US government took from him in the 1940s. He's bleeding.

We know from context that these images are meant to be taken somewhat chronologically. After dying (or nearly dying), Bill seeks out the Axolotl, who sends him to the Theraprism. While there, he writes the journal that he's beaming to us. The staff at the Theraprism catch onto this, and allow him to write out the last few pages, meaning those last few pages are chronologically the last of Bill we see.

This means that, after the events of the show, Bill was shattered... and then, upon entering the Theraprism, started to heal, his body coming together and scars forming... but at some point afterward, he started breaking apart again.

I'd made a post previously about Bill's development, how he views himself as a monster after the Euclidian Disaster, and how he continues to act monstrous afterward (and winds up agonizingly lonely as a result). I didn't really touch on this in the post, but I feel like after inadvertently destroying his home dimension...

Bill never left the denial phase of grief.

I could be wrong on this, but I get the feeling that part of his reason for acting monstrous toward just about everybody is because he sees himself as a monster, because "this is just how I am" is easier to accept than "I really really screwed up."

Bringing this back to his shattering... It's interesting to me that after entering the Theraprism, his body is scarring, which means it is healing. But then, at the end, as he's signing off the book, he's shattered again, and looking even worse than he did when talking to the Axolotl. When talking this over with a friend, they pointed out something that struck me:

Bill does not want to heal.

Healing means having to actually think through what happened. It means having to confront his past, confront destroying his home dimension, confront the harm he caused to others, confront the fact that he did not have to be this way.

And he refuses to do that.

He refuses to heal.

[burgojo]

DISTURBIA. MAHITO / M!READER

summary. in the golden age of jujutsu, mahito had you, and lost you. a thousand years later, he seeks to bring you back.

wc. 9.1k

tags. smut | sub bottom mahito, top reader, heian era!mahito & cursed spirit!reader (manifestation of fear of night/absence of light), reader had a cult/worshippers. mention of blood & gore. mahito with a pussy, size difference, breeding kink, mention of babytrapping. fingering + oral (mahito receiving), doggystyle, exhibitionism (mention of others overhearing), jealousy, praise, multiple orgasms (mahito receiving), creampie, ahegao (?), god kink (reader), temp play (reader is naturally cold)

notes. obligatory ooc warning. also, i made up a lot of lore for the reader('s abilities), so scroll down about halfway to skip it and get to the good part :)

[ requested ]

Deep in the beech forests of Northeast Japan, Geto Suguru stands delicately amongst the verdant green undergrowth. He glances around, petting his large winged cursed spirit absently, and gathers his long dark robes in a hand. He glances over his shoulder.

"Despite your insistence on coming here, you've been awfully quiet. Is it not what you imagined?"

Bent at the waist to inspect massive green leaves as large as his face, Mahito looks up. "Huh? Oh, I was just curious about how they went about their plan. This place is maaassive. How are we supposed to find him? Maybe they cut him up? Sprinkled him from the highest mountain?" He sighs. "Whatever they did – they chose a green place to do it. Hanami would probably like it."

Dismissing his cursed spirit with a wave of his hand, Suguru chooses a direction and begins to move. He doesn't so much as walk as glide, his long skirts and the heavy undergrowth obscuring his steps. The tall, slim beeches are set just far enough apart for one person to slip between their trunks, and Mahito is forced to fall into step behind Suguru.

He flexes his fingers; stretches his arms; kicks ferns. Twigs tug at his hair and he huffs, glaring at the tree that dared touch him. He clasps the section of hair to his chest, dragging his slim fingers through it obsessively.

"You're twitchy," Suguru says without turning around. "You never did say how you heard of this curse. Seeing as you're not busy running your mouth, why don't you tell me now?"

Mahito sighs, skipping over a fallen log overrun with moss. He gazes up at the trees and notices the way the thick emerald canopy filters the sunlight until all that's left is an even, misty glow. Shadows are soft and deep around here.

"Not much to say," he hums thoughtfully, knocking a branch out of his way. "Lotta curses back in the day. Just makes sense to have some hidden around the place."

"Yes, but how did you come across such old records? Surely sorcerers would've kept something like that far, far away from prying eyes."

"Humans get tired. They get clumsy. They misplace things."

Suguru raises a brow. "And you kept it? For a thousand years, without purpose?"

Airily, he says, "So what if I did? You really expect me to act like one of you, doin' things with reason and purpose? C'mon. I liked the pictures on it."

He may think Suguru falls for it, but Suguru is nothing if not perceptive. Mahito flings his arms out too wide. Each stride is too long, each twirl around a slender beech too motivated – no, he sees it all. He's playing at carelessness when it couldn't be further from the truth.

Absurdly human of him, really.

Suguru hums, halting in his tracks. Mahito almost bumps into him. Again – too eager. Suguru lifts a hand, palm down and fingers splayed, and closes his eyes. Thrums of warm sorcery crackle through his veins – weak, barely trace amounts. Expected for thousand-year-old jujutsu. To be able to feel it still was a feat all in itself. Just how intense was the battle that raged here?

"We should be right in front of it," Suguru claims, dropping his hand and opening his eyes. They stand before a slight ridge of the earth, exposed tree roots weaving in and out of rich brown soil. A heavy blanket of moss hangs over the ridge and ivy grows beneath their feet. "Yet... I don't sense any spirits nearby."

"Hey," says Mahito suddenly. "The scroll mentioned a 'tomb'. You said in front of ya, yeah?"

Nodding, Suguru folds his hands within his robes. He watches as Mahito's arm lengthens into a massive cleaver, and he steps back at the wicked smile that spreads across his lips.

Mahito lifts his arm, pale eyes glinting dangerously. "Man, I so hope I'm right!"

With a slam that rumbles the ground beneath their feet and strips the nearby trees of their leaves, Mahito splits the earthen mound before him clean in two, leaving a shallow ravine that extends into the horizon. The soft earth parts like melted butter, soil and chipped wood exploding forth with such strength that Suguru narrowly avoids a pointed root that embeds itself into the trunk behind him.

When the dirt and leaves settle, they reveal the chiselled stone set into the earth. Split not quite perfectly in half – for Mahito loves chaos, and halves are better off-kilter – is a room carved into stone, hollowed out with a single podium erupting from the centre.

Upon the roughly-carved podium is a mid-sized box plastered with ancient seals and talismans. Peeking inside reveals that the inside of the 'room' is covered in the stuff, too – old, yellow, and faded, they flutter from wind they haven't felt in aeons. One peels off and comes to rest gently at Mahito's feet.

"Huh," he says eventually, staring at the cuttingly-familiar brushstrokes. He reaches for the wooden box, soft and rotted with age. The moment his fingers brush the surface, he pulls back with a jerk and makes a face. "Ouch! Spicy."

"Strong seals," Suguru comments, making no move to help. Mahito huffs and blasts the talismans away with a burst of cursed energy, testing the now-bare box with the tips of his fingers like one might with a freshly-microwaved plate.

He cracks the box open. Inside, innocent as a fresh lamb, lays a shallow, red-lacquered suzuri-bako.

"A... writing box?" Mahito murmurs to himself. He reaches in and takes the smooth box into his hands. It feels much heavier than it should, and an oppressive weight shudders through him, dark and cold and familiar. "Geto-san? It's a cage. I don't have the key."

"Let me take a look." Suguru stretches out a hand.

For a fleeting moment, Mahito hesitates – the slightest tilt of the box towards his chest. And Suguru knows.

With a growing smile, Suguru folds his hand back into his long sleeves. "Ah... I see. You know this spirit."

"I—" He pauses. "Maybe. Once upon a time."

"Interesting," says Suguru, "that something as old as this still has an effect on you."

"Nah – boring, actually. I'm old and sentimental." He pretends to wipe a tear from his eye. He chuckles and tosses his hair over his shoulder, tracing the edges of the box. Power tingles against his skin. "Pretty thing, for a cage. Maybe I could just – ease it open—"

Suguru raises his long sleeve to shield his face as the box pulses with a sudden, growling shockwave, forcing him to step back to keep his balance. The ferns sway around his knees.

Mahito clicks his tongue, a pout forming on his lips. "Damn it! This should be simple!"

The second attempt has the birds squawking and flying into the skies as the surrounding trees shudder violently. For the third, Suguru winces slightly as Mahito slams his fist – a giant mallet – against the box, resulting in another shockwave of barbed cursed energy. He lifts a hand, placating.

"Ah, Mahito... Perhaps I can give it a go?" he suggests. "It may need a... sorcerer's touch."

Mahito's eyes widen. Of course! Those ancient douche-canoes probably knew he would come for what was his. It only made sense to weave his name into the seals.

"By all means," he replies, stepping aside. "Take a gander."

Stepping forward, Suguru tugs his sleeve to his elbow and scoops up the box from the floor. He dusts off the cover. "Lovely craftsmanship," he muses and hovers his palm over it despite every nerve in his body writhing and begging to pull away. Some instinctual, ancient force warns him off it. He lets energy seep into the age-made cracks in the seals, and from within, gently burns away the net holding its prisoner still – like taking a lighter to the end of a frayed rope, creating spaces big enough to squeeze through.

The lid cracks open.

Like a floodgate opening, freezing shadows and smoke pour out of the gap, forcing the lid to clatter uselessly to the ground. Darkness bleeds down the walls. Suguru's eyes widen as his pale fingers, deep within the thick black smoke continuing to billow forth, begin to turn blue at the tips, visible frost surging over his skin. Smoke fills the air around them, fading out the sun until it could be a misty grey night. Rivers of shadow pool thickly around his knees until he can't see his feet, and he hurries to set the box on the podium.

As he lets go, a shadowy tendril curls around his exposed hand and arm, burning white frost into his skin. His breath hitches.

A freezing hand seizes his wrist. Inch-long black nails dig rivulets of blood – his red, all-too-human blood – out of him, and his heart plummets at the sight of the hand, wrapped completely around his forearm as if it's a thin piece of rope. On instinct, he yanks back, and the hand comes with.

Then, a flood of smoky shadow spews from the open box – and a cowled figure claws its way out, formed from the very shadows that plunged them into a sudden night. It rises and straightens, towering over them both.

Suguru's arm hurts. He clutches his wrist, his blood coagulating over the delicately-patterned frost, and chances a glance back at Mahito.

Arms spread wide and palms open, an unnervingly breathless smile plastered on his lips, Mahito gazes up at the wispy figure unblinkingly. Wide-eyed and panting softly, he laughs – bright and jubilant, victorious.

"Yes! Yes! There you are!"

He skips past Suguru, giggling madly as he takes one large, clawed hand in both his own. He presses the palm to his cheek as he hops in place, stretching up to reach for the round silver brooch pinning the cloak of shadows together over the shoulder. He hasn't seen his eyes in so long, and this stupid hood is in the way!

Mahito?

The voice comes from within Suguru's head. But, unlike Hanami's, this voice slithers among his own thoughts, slipping between them as light as a ghost. It could've been his own, for all he knew, except for the fact it carries a sorrow so profound it eclipses every other thought – he can focus on nothing else.

—

Everything is on fire. Everything is on fire and it is all because of you.

Of course, the fire was the easy part. One day, perhaps your beloved will forgive you for using such an overzealous amount of cursed energy to make your grand entrance. It completely overshadowed his own.

Everything would change here. It would be your end, or your beginning. Before you stand the most powerful sorcerers in the land, all gathered to rise against you one final time – or die trying.

All so tense. A sigh flutters through your lips as you brush a stray lock of hair out of your eyes. Mahito has influenced you too much – you are bare from shoulder-to-waist, oil-slick blood coating your arms up to the elbows, and facing the strongest adversaries you have ever met. Yet, all you can fret about is your poor hakama, now no more than a shred of memory. You donned your best silks for this, and the first thing the cruel little bugs did was burn it off you.

At the very least, your sashinuki may be salvageable.

"You are strong," a white-haired sorcerer calls above the roar of the flames towering into the sky. "Some call you divine and pray to you for aid, but you do not listen."

"I listen," you reply coolly, and slick back your hair with a blood-soaked palm. "I help them to lose the burden of their regrets and relieve their physical pains. I daresay I help more than you."

"They call you a healer, but what you do is not healing. Once, you numbed a man to his wounds until he fell to exhaustion fighting in your name. You are a spiteful creature. Desperation is your lure."

"If I hear it, I answer. If they think I am their saviour, who am I to disagree? It's a rather pretty title – though, it is amusing to be lord of maggots. I like to watch them squirm."

How did a curse of night, of the endless dark, grow so powerful? Every secret done in the dark, every lie and gnawing shame, was yours. There had always been something different about you, and they were fools to ignore it, even upon your first meeting:

You, tall and regal, kimono the darkest shade of navy blue damask, had been nothing like their other curses. You looked quite human. Perhaps there was something godly in your stride, something primordial in your voice, that cowed them all like children. You spoke to them, soft and paternal, and suddenly, each and every one of them was afraid of the dark and you were their only solace against the monsters beyond the window.

Enchantment, they'd called it, upon blinking awake and finding you gone. Perhaps it was your domain, to cull their thoughts until all that remained was the ancient instinct to fear the black night. Had you heard them discussing you, hands shaking and faces drained of blood, you would have laughed.

—

Suguru's eyes flicker, and the scene flips to a forest clearing.

—

"Mahito!"

The cry of his name is guttural, a thousand voices coalescing into a roar and a shriek. Across the battlefield, he falls, and you catch the flames reflecting in the shine of his widened eyes as he grasps the unfamiliar black blade piercing his chest. His soul writhes around it, pierced by it, unable to slip away unscathed as he has so many times before.

In that split second, your attention lapses, and black chains lash your body, slamming you to your knees. You snarl, straining against them.

"Surrender," the sorcerer before you orders, white hair stained red with blood. Despite his injuries and the loss of an entire arm, he stands tall and steady above you. "We will let him go if you choose to die."

"If I choose to die?" You run your thumb over your knuckles, regenerating three lost fingers. A rather good trade, you think, for taking off his arm in the process. "You'd allow a spirit, able to shape the soul into something inhuman and unrecognisable, to walk free in exchange for my life? My, my. I must be particularly disruptive to your little society."

"You're beaten." His voice is sharp despite his clear exhaustion. He struggles to restore his arm. "No matter how many of us you kill, you will lose first. Give up."

"Such misplaced confidence. 'Choose to die'..." You sneer and the black iron chains wrapped around you tighten, far colder than you are. You have warmed, somewhat, in Mahito's presence. You cannot be bitter about it when it is he who marks your soul. "Hah! Nothing stops you from killing him anyway – so, politely, I decline. There are only so many of you. You will run out of bodies before I do."

As you speak, your image flickers in an attempt to split your consciousness into the deep shadows around you. The chains chew into your skin and you hiss as your control dissipates like a candle blown out.

"Interesting," the sorcerer murmurs, gazing down at you pensively. The red flames swirl behind him. "Interesting that your bond with that curse truly did win us this fight. I admit – I was sceptical it would work. You're... not what I expected."

You turn your gaze to Mahito, crumpled on the ground with his long, straight hair creating a curtain over his features. He grasps the handle of the blade, trembling slightly, and his breaths are shallow and rapid as he attempts to pull it out. He can only whimper in pain – too quiet for anyone to hear. But this battle is a secret under darkness and belongs to you. You close your eyes to his furious cry and panicked breaths as the blade refuses to budge and saps more of his strength with every second.

Run, you implore, and his head shoots up, pale eyes meeting yours. Cursed energy surges beneath your skin, rippling and bubbling with bloodthirst. Run and don't look back. Mahito, you must survive at all costs. Do you understand?

The chains quiver and the links bend out of shape, their strange unearthly metal creaking. Your body strains against it, fingers elongating into claws and mouth growing jagged fangs. Your skin rips and flickers, bleeding dead galaxies. The chains bite into your shadowy flesh, but you grow larger despite it.

The sorcerer takes a step back.

Go, your voice rasps in his head, syllables rough and struggling in the monstrosity of your own body. Mahito's eyes widen as the chains groan, shuddering with effort – and snap.

He pulls himself to his feet, pale grey kimono tattered and stained. He grips the blade lodged in his chest and stumbles away, chasing the safety of the tree line.

You roar, twice as tall as the sorcerers around you, cutting them down with rapid, decisive blows. In his state, he doesn't notice the sorcerer turning in his direction.

But you do. With a shriek, you launch yourself at him, breaking through the ranks of sorcerers trying to stop you in a burst of viscera and bone. You seize the man giving chase after Mahito, and his whip-like technique is nothing against the overwhelming strength of your new form. One slash of your razor-sharp claws and his technique putters out in his limp hands.

Mahito spares you one last, desperate look, before turning and running into the darkness. You pull the shadows closed after him, deepening the shadows around him until you have him in your grasp.

Live, you say wistfully, releasing him from your shadows as far away as you can by a riverbank. He collapses and attempts to slip the blade out from between his ribs. He quivers with effort, and you don't turn back to the sorcerers picking themselves up for one last push. As long as none of them find Mahito, you will accept the consequences of your hedonistic actions. Live for me. Please.

You languish in your prison for one thousand years.

—

Mahito beams, nodding so hard his head threatens to fall off. "You remember me! I knew you would!"

Slowly, as if learning how to move one muscle at a time, the hand cupping his face brushes its knuckles down the edge of his cheek. When it reaches his chin, long fingers wrap around his throat as if to choke – then, they release. Using the first three fingers, the shadowy spirit grasps Mahito's face, turning it further up towards him. The top of Mahito's head only reaches the spirit's ribs – or where they would be on a human.

Mahito, the spirit calls joyfully, lifting its other hand to cup his face with a flourish of a long, wispy sleeve. Draped over him, the spirit's shadowy robes engulf him almost entirely. Oh, Mahito, my darling pale bone-shard...

He laughs, accepting everything with a smile that seems too ancient for someone like him. It's the smile of one who's known loss – not his usual grin of frivolous naivete.

"You look awful," Mahito says, with a little pout and a frown. "Come! I'll get you back to full strength. But I suppose that guy behind me will want introductions. No number of old scrolls or tomes would get him your name."

That name was never mine, the curse declares. Humans could never know me as you do. My strength is not theirs to invoke.

"Alrighty," Mahito says. He spins on his heel, hair bouncing, and points above him, where the spirit stands – floats – behind his shoulder. "Geto-san! This is YN! I knew him back in the day. He had a bit of a cult, too, so I think you'll get along splendidly."

That piques his interest. That white-haired sorcerer – probably a member of the Gojo clan, Suguru thinks with an achy little throb, if his paleness was a family trait – had mentioned something about your perceived divinity. He wonders why you'd pay attention to any of those ignorant monkeys.

"You're probably thinking about the whole cult thing, right?" Mahito comments offhandedly, tossing and catching the silver brooch he stole from you. Despite this, you haven't pulled down your hood. The straggly ends of the cloak hang by your arms.

"I won't say I didn't wonder."

"Don't worry, it's not a long story." He clears his throat importantly. "Back in the day, we didn't have curtains or anything to hide the results of our actions, so what we did must've seemed like magic or something paranormal to humans. My YN was often seen before and after destruction like plagues and floods, so word began to spread of a beautiful man who would save those he appeared to. Of course, this was survivorship bias. If he killed 'em, not like they could say that to anyone, right? So that's how people began to worship him."

"How fascinating," Suguru murmurs, eyeing you up. "Before, I saw your... memories. Was worship how you grew so much stronger than a normal curse?"

You finally look up, having been concentrating very hard on Mahito and his new appearance. His clothes are strange, but you're beginning to come around to them. Apologies. My body is not quite... complete. Some portion of me may have passed through you as I formed. You touch Mahito's hair, rubbing the strands between your fingers, and he giggles up at you. Perhaps you are right. Evolution was always within Mahito's portfolio, not mine. I should have been constant, unchanging, like the night. Odd, isn't it?

"The form you gained right before you were sealed away – do you still have it? Or was it a result of their belief?" If he could sway you to his side – gain your abilities – it might be enough. Just enough.

You consider his question. Human emotion is potent. I may no longer have shrines made with my image or prayers whispered in my name, but there are infinitely more humans now to draw from. I may gain it back – in time.

"Fascinating," Suguru repeats. He extends his uninjured hand with a kind smile. "Then please – allow me to be your host in this new era. I own a temple with a not-insignificant number of human visitors. It may help you recover."

You glance down at Mahito. He nods encouragingly. "He's not a bad guy to be around, I promise! A little uppity, but with the strength to back it up. You'd be with me. We'd be together again."

You pause, your large hand halting on top of Mahito's head, where you'd been petting him. He blinks up at your featureless face, and shadows waft from your shoulders –  a sigh, or what passes for one with your inhuman anatomy. Very well, you relent, taking one of his ponytails and tugging lightly, I will follow. Be grateful that I bow to you.

"Oh, yes," Mahito giggles pleasantly, leaning into your stomach. He props his chin on your ribs, staring up at you with a grin. "Verily, my lord. When we arrive, I'll even show you how grateful I am."

You cup his face gently, squishing his cheeks. You run a thumb over the stitches below his eye. Dubious little creature... Lead on – we have much to talk about.

—

Recovery, you find, requires mostly time. The first thing you do when you regain sufficient strength is create a new body – one Mahito is familiar with, and which looks almost entirely human. For all your distaste, their physical anatomy is simple and useful, and you can spend less effort holding it together than most other shapes. Geto Suguru, as you come to know him, is incredibly interested in you and your capabilities, almost invasively so, and hates humanity quite a lot. You avoid him where you can.

You enter the room you were given by ducking under the lintel, one which Mahito now shares with you. Once you heard where he used to reside and what it was had been explained to you, you had been firmly insistent he come with you rather than you with him. Sewers, you claimed, were no place for the beloved of a god.

He is at the dresser in a grey kimono, which grabs your attention. He runs a brush through the pale blue-grey hair swept over his shoulder. He opens his eyes at the sound of the door sliding open, a smile automatically tugging at his lips.

"You're back," he says warmly. "What did Geto-san want this time?"

"He has trouble sleeping," you reply, taking a seat on the bed. It is odd, you thought once, that a traditional temple like this would incorporate such modern furniture, but Mahito seemed to like it, so you kept your mouth shut. "I drew him to slumber."

Mahito hums knowingly. "Humans, right? So messy. Him especially. Man, emotionally, that guy is a wreck – gets so worked up over nothing."

Politely, you ignore the invitation to complain. You may be a curse, but you have some dignity. "He freed me from a thousand years of imprisonment, Mahito. It's the least I can do to repay him."

He frowns. "I freed you."

"The seals prevented you from doing very much, Mahito," you say, amused. "If he wasn't there, you'd still be banging away at it. However, you did figure out where they kept me and kept me alive in your memories when no other did. I am grateful for that."

"If you were less judgemental of the other curses, I'm sure they woulda remembered you fondly," he rebuts. "You were too much of a lone wolf. 'Ooh, Sukuna's eating my worshippers 'cause I told him he's not cool! Kenjaku badgers me way too often about his dumb plans!' If you didn't complain about them to their faces, I'm sure they would've been happier to remember you."

You scoff. "Why should I care? I have you."

The tone of your voice warms what passes as his heart. He turns on the stool to face you, setting down the brush and picking up his hair ties. He begins to section his hair into three parts.

"I mean that much to you, do I? Little old me, more important than the favour of the great King of Curses," he coos, rising to his feet. He offers you a hair-tie with a soft smile, and you accept it. He crawls into your lap, sitting with his back to your chest. He hums as you comb your fingers through his hair, fumbling only slightly with the intricacies of a braid. It's been a long time since you've had hands.

"What does the King of Curses have that I care for? He is strong, but has many enemies. He is an arrogant, fickle creature and desires no equal, only slaves and followers." You adjust the thick locks of hair you've left loose to frame his face. He seems to like threes, so you'll keep it similar. "I like to do as I please. He is feared – I am fear."

You consider your next words. "He is also very rude."

Mahito barks out a laugh. "Careful. If he hears that, you'd be sliced up quicker than you can say 'oops'."

"You say he is now little more than a set of relicts. I wonder – if I kicked him around, would he know it and come later to kill me?"

Mahito presses a finger to his lips thoughtfully. "I don't think so. They don't seem to hold any sentience by themselves. Even curses empowered by the fingers don't look like they contain any part of 'him'."

"Interesting."

"Remind me to never let you carry his fingers."

"Of course." You tie off the end of the braid, sitting back to admire your handiwork. A human had come in with something similar, and you'd been too preoccupied with how it might look on Mahito to really care for what Geto was doing.

(You didn't care much for what any of them were doing, truthfully. Their idea for a world of curses was not quite uninhabited enough for you, as the god of the endless night and the perfect, empty void. It was only because of Mahito's unique technique that you let him live beyond your initial meeting, after all.)

"You kept your hair long," you say, voice a low murmur.

Mahito glances over his shoulder, gazing up at you through his messy bangs. A sly smile curls at his lips. "Oh, you know," he waves a hand carelessly, "you liked it better this way."

You prop your chin on top of Mahito's head. He grins. "You always wore it like this?"

"Well, I sat like a rock at the bottom of a river for a couple hundred years, so no, not always. But when I did like to have hair – yes, it was long."

You rest your hand around his throat, like a collar. Mahito smirks, dancing his fingers over your knuckles. "Hey, now... What's this doin', big guy? Careful – I'm half your size."

"You do not have to look like you do. I would adore you regardless."

"How cute! But it's no fun when we're both too big for the bed." He turns in your lap, straddling your thighs, and playfully plucks a thread loose from your haori. He cocks his head to meet your eyes with a smile when a brief scowl crosses your face. "C'mon, lighten up! You're out of the slammer! What better way to celebrate than with me? If you want, we don't have to do it on the bed. Maybe on the floor... Out in the forest... Drenched in human blood..."

"Mahito, Geto is across the hall. You are loud."

"He can plug his ears. I'm sure he's got a curse somewhere in him for that." His grin broadens freakishly. "I also want a curse inside me."

"Mahito," you growl, your grip tightening on his hips.

"Oh, say that again." He shows the whites of his eyes briefly with a teasing moan. He drapes his arms over your shoulders, wiggling around and settling comfortably in your lap. Your shoulders tense. "Such a bore. Hey – I'm better with my technique nowadays. Y'know how much fun we could have?" He leans in with a giggle, lips brushing your earlobe. "Gimme ideas. I'll make you feel so good."

Concentration was always the common denominator. He was once easily overwhelmed – he'd like to think he improved.

"I still tire quickly," you say, and not even you can obscure the annoyance in your voice. "Belief is so hard-won these days. I fear you'll have to be gentle with me."

He giggles, though his expression softens – or as much as it can for him; perhaps 'less-crazed' is a fairer term –and he drags his tongue hotly against your jaw. It's a kiss – his version of one.

"Okay," he sighs dramatically, kicking his legs childishly. "Hm... How about this? Tonight, shall I be your prince, princess, or," he winks, "your master?"

Your lips purse. "Gods do not have princes or princesses. 'Divine right'." You scoff. "Don't make me laugh."

"You'll always gimme your 'divine right', though, yeah?" He wiggles his brows cheekily. "Your sacred sceptre. Your god rod—"

"Mahito."

He sulks for only a moment before perking up again, tugging at your sashes and collar to open you up for his eyes only. He traces the marks on your skin with a hum.

"You and Sukuna have a lot in common, you know."

"He's a fool. I hope that's not what you mean."

He snorts. "Relax. I didn't mean it like that. I like you more, anyway."

"I'd certainly hope so." You flex your fingers, lifting one hand to measure against his waist. "I endured a thousand years of imprisonment for you."

"You're gonna bring that up constantly, aren't you?"

"Only when important. Do you know how small it was on the inside?"

He sighs. "I'm never winning an argument again."

"You've already won my heart."

"Your heart!" He laughs. "What a human thing to call it."

You lean back, allowing him to push your kimono off your shoulders. "Call it what you like. Be what you like. I've spent too long away from you to care for names and titles." You trace the stitches running across his hips. You lift your eyes, and Mahito's breath hitches at the hunger in them. They swirl with empty galaxies and dead stars, and he finds himself subconsciously leaning in, longing for that cold, dark and very gentle place. One day, at the end of all things, you will bring him there, lord of nothing and lord of everything. Perhaps he'll learn how to touch his soul to yours, like bubbles, and you'll never have to leave him again.

"Is this what you want?" he whispers as you strip him bare, his grey silk kimono pooling on the floor. "Me? Just me?"

"I have no need for anything else. Power, armies, what have you... Sukuna, Kenjaku, even this Geto – their plans are so short-sighted. Everything will come under my hand eventually. Until that day arrives, I am content with you."

"So romantic," Mahito murmurs, a coy smile pulling at his lips. "Can I also come under your hand? Pretty please?"

"Must you ruin everything I say with a filthy joke?"

He pushes you backwards onto the bed, hovering over you with a grin. He grinds down on your lap under the pretence of getting comfy and he relishes in your groan. "You just set them up so perfectly for me! How could I not?"

You click your tongue. "I indulge you too much."

"Not enough, I'd say. Took me way too long to get into your pants. Do you know how desperate I was at times? You expected me to see you doused in human viscera and not want you all up in my guts, too... Ridiculous, in my humble opinion."

"Sex is such a human notion."

"You say it like it's a bad thing," he whines. "I have to say, it's pretty fun. You like it, too, don't you?"

"Hm."

"C'mon, we're both here because of humans. We aren't, like, appropriating anything." He reaches down, palming the bulge below your kimono. His grin widens. "If you don't like it, why did you give yourself the parts for it? Ha! Checkmate."

He yelps as you grab him and toss him down onto the bed, pinning him under your weight. He stares up at you with wide, innocent eyes, his loosened kimono gaping at the chest and stomach.

You rake your eyes down his lithe, pale body, humming when his breath hitches at your touch. You glide your hand down his side, tracing the smooth curve of his waist and hip.

You reach down by his hips and part his kimono further. When the silk falls open, you are greeted by a neat patch of grey hair – and glistening pink folds.

He giggles at your expression. He twirls his hair around a finger and bats his lashes, which might be thicker and longer than usual. "Now we match."

Clicking your tongue, you curl your fingers around his slender thigh and part his legs, eyeing him unblinkingly. He's not sure if he should be aroused or offended – you're hard to read and he's never sure what you like. Perhaps that's part of why he stayed – you were like a game – but now, a thousand years later, he can't help but feel... unsure? Nervous?

Afraid?

He wants to laugh at the concept. Him? Afraid of your opinion of him? How disgustingly fragile.

You're talking now, and the sound of it snaps him out of his spiralling thoughts. You've always had that effect on him.

"I'm not sure how we match at all, Mahito," you're saying. "As spirits, we are incapable of siring spawn. I would say we match less."

He whines. "Hey...! I put all this work into looking nice for you, and you're telling me now that you don't like it? Besides, who're you to say we can't have some little curse babies, asshole? There's never been another me – maybe I'm the exception. Maybe I'm better than the rest of 'em."

At last, you lift your eyes. Mahito wants to curl up beneath your gaze – you are terrifying and comforting all at once. "No," you say softly. "You are one of a kind."

A smile splits his face, cocky, and he sits up, leaning back on his palms. His kimono slips teasingly from his shoulder. "Mmhm, that's right... Boy, you sure know how to make a guy feel special."

You tilt your head, considering something. You stroke his thigh, absent-minded, and he presses into your touch. "You don't know for certain – about spawn."

"Obviously not. I was sitting among the rocks of the Shinano River for, like, eight hundred years. You want me to fuck a fish?"

"Why?" You lift a hand as he opens his mouth to snark at you. "About the river, Mahito. Not the fish."

He frowns, his lower lip jutting out slightly. "You told me to survive! I did just that. I'm not sure why you sound so disappointed."

"You, resting in the same place for hundreds of years? Wouldn't you have grown bored? I'm sure it did not take that long to heal from your wounds."

He huffs, crossing his arms. He tugs his leg out of your grasp. His hair falls over his features. "You were dead, for all I knew! When I didn't know much about anything, you were there to teach me. For the first time ever, you were gone, and if they'd managed to kill you, what would they do to me?" He flicks a wrist, sleeve whipping your side. "You told me to live. To survive. So I did, okay? After all, it was the last thing you ever said to me. I had nothing else left of you."

The air is heavy. Neither of you moves a muscle.

"Mahito," you say softly.

He throws himself backwards onto the bed with a bounce and a soft thump, hands over his eyes. He tries to kick you, but you catch his ankle. He scowls. "Stupid. Asshole. Jerkface. Don't say my name like that."

"Mahito."

He gulps as you close the distance between you, your palm pressed to the mattress beside his head. His breath hitches as your hand glides from his ankle to his calf, holding it over your shoulder. You don't quite pin it there, but you leave your palm open, steady against the outside of his knee as it presses against you.

"You've grown soft," you observe.

He crosses his arms and tries to glare. It's a little hard when you're kneeling between his legs, your lips six inches from his own. Do you still taste the same? "No, I haven't. You just knew me before I lost everything."

"Let me return this to you, then." You part his kimono fully, the silk pooling on the bed. You reach for your own clothes, though your eyes remain trained on his. They remind him of a fox, quick and clever and sly. "Can I make it up to you, Mahito?"

He sniffs, glancing aside. His arms uncross. "Fine."

"Thank you."

You're so stupid. And polite. Ugh.

Your fingers travel down between his thighs. His throat bobs as you slide your middle finger between his wet folds, coating it in his slick. He shifts as you thrust it in gently, exploring him. Your warm palm cups him, something possessive in your touch, and as he relaxes around you, you slip a second finger in.

He gasps sharply, his hands shooting up to wrap around your biceps. You halt, buried in to the knuckle. It's hard not to be – his walls pulse around you, sucking you in.

"Am I hurting you?"

He shakes his head. He offers a brief, breathless grin. "Nah. Just feels different. Good different. Keep going."

You nod, sitting back on your heels to watch the way his cunt flutters around you. You stroke the leg thrown over your shoulder, kissing the ankle, and Mahito lets out a muffled mewl as your thumb presses against his clit.

"Sensitive," you murmur to yourself. You glance up. "Have you done this before?"

He licks his lips, steadying his voice. "What, changing myself like this?"

"Yes. For your own pleasure, rather than for battle."

"No," he admits, legs tightening around you. "This is the first time."

Humming, you glance up at him, allowing a smile to grace your features. "Then we can explore it together."

You pull your fingers from him – and with a thoughtful look, you place them in your mouth. Mahito's breath hitches as you swirl your tongue around your fingers, relishing in the taste.

"Sweet," you declare, and place his leg gently down on the bed. You settle at the base of the bed and tug him down by the thighs, staring up at him with playful eyes. "You wouldn't mind if I had a taste from the source, would you?"

He shakes his head, and it tips back with a moan as you bury your head between his thighs. You lap at his soft pink folds, and as you push your tongue inside, he slickens up, walls hot and pulsing around you. He squelches as you push in deeper, slick dripping from his eager hole. He grips your hair with both hands, moaning in delight as you fuck your long tongue in and out of him, curling roughly against the spot inside him that makes his head spin.

"Awh, fuck," he whines, laughing breathily as his spine arches and hot pleasure laps at the base of his spine. "F-Feels even better than I thought it would—! Ah, hah, gimme more!"

You draw your tongue out of him, making him whine and pull your face further into his fluttering cunt. You suck at his clit, lifting a hand to raise the hood of it as your tongue circles and your teeth graze it – he jolts in surprise, hands tightening in your hair. 

"Patience," you purr, tongue laving over his reddened clit. You push it inside him, wriggling about experimentally as his throbbing walls stroke the length of it, hungry and devouring.

"I already waited a thousand years!" he says, almost angrily. His heels dig into your shoulders as he lifts his hips, chasing a high. Your tongue is so long – it massages that rough patch of nerves at the back of his cunt and he seizes, crying your name as you grip his hips and lift him to your lips.

He takes what he wants rather inconsiderately, slick dripping down your chin as you kiss his hot folds. He's practically humping your face, grinding against your mouth and the tongue sinfully deep inside of him. You groan as his moans pitch higher, whorish, and he begins to tremble around you.

So quickly? You're amused. He's missed you more than he's willing to let on.

You fuck him with your tongue, saliva and slick mixing on his fair skin, and he's positively dripping, every thrust squelching and pushing out a sweet gush of pleasure into your waiting mouth. You swallow it blissfully, your thumb circling the wet nub of his clit.

With a wobbly, high-pitched cry, he shoves your face into his gummy cunt and comes on your waiting, writhing tongue, thighs seizing around your head and locking you in place as he coats your chin in his hot, sticky slick.

With your tongue buried deep inside him, flicking about and pressing curiously against his soft walls, he lets out a shaky whine, grinding against you with rough rolls of his hips. It's not an unfamiliar motion. He takes you so prettily, soft smooth folds now dark with lust.

Shakily, Mahito releases you, body sagging into the mattress. He pants and gasps, the tense heat between his legs unbearably achy and needy. He wants to melt.

"S-So… good," he sighs, a broad grin crossing his face. You lap at him lazily, and he twitches. "Mm… Now gimme your cock, 'kay? Nice 'n' deep. Promise me."

"Promise what?" you ask, licking your lips and wiping away his come. Your eyes glint with satisfaction as you set down his unsteady legs and crawl between them, the bulge in your trousers straining in its confines.

"That you'll fuck me up," he whines, turning onto his stomach and lifting his perky ass. He gazes over his shoulder at you, wiggling his hips and spreading his knees further to show off his tight holes. "You can have either one – jus' want you in me, okay? I miss having a big cock in my belly, miss being fucked and filled up until 'm all swollen and can't move." He pouts, his eyes half-lidded, and presses his ass against your bulge, grinding lazily. "C'mon, big guy. Don't you wanna put your baby in me?"

His eyes shoot wide open and his jaw drops as a thick, throbbing intrusion splits his pussy apart. He can't help his eager moans as you set a steady pace, his loosened pussy sucking you in with ease. He scrabbles at the sheets as your grip tightens on his waist and drags him down to match every thrust – he grabs the headboard as your cock kisses his cervix, making his eyes roll back.

"Oh! Y-You're cold – big – so muh – much," he cries brokenly, pressing his palm against his stomach. He shudders at the icy temperature of you inside him, making his hot walls ache and throb with such need that it borders on pain.

On every harsh thrust, he feels you glide against his palm, filling him up so completely that he can barely breathe – that feeling, of every breath physically restricted, makes his eyelids flutter and his pussy clench and flutter. His wet warmth surges down your thighs with his high, and you groan as he jolts and whines.

"You can handle it, Mahito," you note with a soft hum. Your touch grazes his clit and his breath stutters. "You have before, haven't you?"

"I-I'm rusty," he tries to joke, but it comes out flimsy as you shift and he clamps down punishingly around your cock with a moan. "Oh, fuck!"

Your hips snap into him and he fumbles slightly, grabbing one of your hands on his hip. He slumps into the mattress, lifting his hips as you fuck into his swollen heat, slick and soft around you. Little chained moans fall from his lips as he twists the sheets in his fist; his body jolts back and forth with your thrusts, his long blue-grey braid bouncing over his shoulder.

"Feels so g-good," he slurs, legs shaking like leaves. He spreads them, reaching down to split his sticky pussy lips with the V of his fingers. His lower lip quivers as he gazes at you over his shoulder. His bangs are a mess over his lust-blown eyes. "More – more, more, I want more—! Make me yours again, ah, right there—"

"Quiet now," you murmur amongst his choppy moans. "Geto will hear you."

"Wh-Whose fault is that?" he whines, the expression on his face fucked out and deeply flushed. "H-Hah – bet he'd be jealous, anyway! He wants you but you're all mine! Mh—"

You chuckle softly, leaning over him with a palm braced by his head. He feels small like this – protected. He whines into the bedsheets, his pussy dripping down his inner thighs.

"Mahito," you say, almost admonishingly. "Are you jealous?"

"Of that – ah – human? No!"

You trail your lips up his shoulder and neck, nipping at his ear. "Mm, of course. But I do think it would be prudent to watch him carefully. That technique of his may prove... troublesome."

Mahito sniffles, come-slick walls clamping around you and making you grunt. "S-Stop talking about him."

"So you are jealous."

"I just don't like it when you talk about other people when you're inside me." He attempts a glare, but his ruined expression quivers when your cock kisses his womb, tears welling up along his lashes and sticking them together. "Th-That's a normal, hn, r-reaction."

"Would you like me to talk about you, then?"

He averts his eyes and nods, tiny, into the sheets. You press your lips to the stitches trailing over his shoulders, admiring the contrast between the dark lines and Mahito's pale skin. You pick up the pace, thighs clapping against his ass, and his moans grow louder, more desperate, as his pussy flutters dangerously around you.

"My Mahito is so sweet to me, greeting me with this little piece of heaven here," you purr with a particularly teasing thrust into his cunt, nuzzling into his hair as he grips your forearms for stability. He nods reverently, lips parting and eyes rolling as you shift your hips and fuck him quick and hard into the mattress. His toes curl as he cries out, every thrust knocking a whiny moan from his throat. "My Mahito did so well, listening to me all that time ago... You're so good at obeying me, aren't you?"

"M-Mmhm," he whimpers. "Yes! Yes, I did, I always listen to you, oh, god—"

"Ah-ah-ah... You've been spending far too much time around humans, Mahito." You kiss his neck, and he shudders, your cock filling his belly until he can think of nothing else. He whines as you stroke his side, fingers fluttering over his stomach.

"I am your god," you murmur. "I taught you. I saved you. Perhaps I can even..." You press the smooth bump in his stomach and he lets out a ruined noise, muscles tensing. "Gods create, don't they?"

A choked, whorish wail rips past his lips. The glide comes easy – hotter, wetter. Waves of heat pulse through his core. His hole squelches as a thick ring of white forms around your base.

"Mahito." You tug his braid sharply and he whimpers as his head jerks back. "If you cry out to a god, it will be my name on your lips. You are mine. I won't tolerate anything less than your total loyalty. Do you understand?"

He babbles, whimpered half-words slipping from his lips. He nods to the best of his ability with your grip on his braid, arousal curling hot and powerful in his gut at the growl in your voice. "Yes!" he cries, his ass ricocheting off your hips. The rough pace makes his knees knock together. "Yes, yes, I'm your bitch, 'm sorry – you're my god – hnn, f-fuck, don't stop—!"

"Good, Mahito. Always so obedient for me."

Perhaps he reshapes himself because suddenly he's vice-tight, throbbing around you with a gooey slickness that tugs pink around your shaft when you try to draw your hips back. You suck in a sharp breath.

"Mahito," you coo, stroking his stitched cheek, and he whimpers, tears clouding his vision. "Let me go, dear. I can't give you what you want if I can't move."

"I don't want you to leave again," he sobs, curling his fingers through yours.  He can't think straight.

If – if he gave you a child, an heir... you wouldn't leave him, right? You couldn't. You liked him for his uniqueness – he wasn't like any other curse you'd ever met. You told him so. With the return of the Six Eyes, each day brings forth more powerful spirits, and you are like Ryomen Sukuna, whatever you say. You, too, are fickle, and you are cold as the night over which you reign. If some other curse – or, fuck him, a human – catches your attention, it's not impossible you might drop him for them.

After all, you're so much older than him. What is he but an indulgent curiosity?

As his thoughts spiral away from him, his body reacts to you – his glossy, silken pussy hugs your twitching cock, and the smell of sex lingers heavy in the air. "Oh god, oh god," he whimpers sweetly, brainless and drooling and pierced on thick cock, "oh, god—"

"Yes," you hiss. "You belong to me." You bury your nose in his hair, skin slapping rhythmically and rocking the bed. You bury yourself in his sloppy cunt over and over again, wrapped so perfectly around you. With a low growl that has Mahito's pussy throbbing, ropes of thick come paint his insides, filling him up and dripping from his hot, slippery folds.

He arches into your cold, firm embrace with a frenzied wail of your name, a sound wrecked with pleasure and pent-up desire. He trembles as he creams around you, milking your cock with a hungry desperation, and the pale curls over his pussy are damp with a filthy mixture of slick and come. He throws his head back. His tongue lolls out of his mouth and his eyes roll back at the feeling of your seed spurting deep within him, his insides so much more sensitive.

Or maybe he's just missed you. Either way, his throat feels raw, and the shattered whimpers that crumble from his lips as he collapses into the bedsheets are all he can manage, his pale eyes half-lidded and fluttering as you continue to pump him full. You stroke his stomach as if he's something sacred and murmur sweet nothings into his ear as he twitches in your arms.

He mewls, panting, as you eventually pull out, his gaping pussy clenching around nothing as your seed dribbles down his thigh. Without your grip on his hips to keep him up, he crumples to the bed in a dazed, soiled heap. His cunt squelches when he moves and he licks his lips, trembling slightly as he raises his head to look at you.

You're beside him now, gazing back with those beautiful eyes of yours. If he stares into them long enough, deep enough, he might catch a glimpse of clashing black holes and dying stars.

That battle an age ago left you with something inescapable. Things used to be easier – you were of the night, and the night was simple with the whisper of something shadowy within the dark. Now you have sparks of something hotter within you. Evolution, change, all of it – Mahito had more of an effect on you than anyone could've guessed.

He presses himself into your side and you wrap his lean body in your embrace. You stroke his hair with a soft hum, combing your fingers through his bangs and tucking them behind his ear.

At last, he speaks up, head resting upon your chest. "I got all dolled up for you," he says quietly. "You made a mess of me. Ruined my hard work."

You kiss his forehead. "Is that not what you wanted?"

"Hey... Don't twist my words."

"I'm sorry."

Silently, he leans up and nips at your jawline, soothing the spot with a kitten lick. He settles back down and you trace the stitches crossing his body, making him hum as you reach the ones following the V of his hips.

"I won't leave you, Mahito. Not again."

He glances up, a fist curling gently on your chest. "Really?"

You nod, staring at the ceiling. He fits perfectly into your side and you clutch him there, protective and possessive in the way he adores. "Yes."

He stares up at you, an unreadable look in his eyes. The corner of his mouth twitches.

"Okay," he says, and closes his eyes with a secret little smile.

[babeyun]

the same heart ☆ n.r

synopsis: navigating the beginning of your first relationship is proving to be most heartwarming, including the list of firsts - particularly, your first kiss. genre: established relationship au, slight angst, fluff. pairing: boyfriend!riki x fem!reader word count: 4.2k rating: pg-15. warnings: swearing, use of petnames (baby, pretty, pretty girl, babe, etc.), that's about it LOL. listen to: those eyes - new west ; yellow - coldplay ; heart - dawn ; sparks - coldplay ; i adore you, dear - dwen author's note: as per usual, we've got another birthday fic! figuring out what to write took me a few moments but i will always pull through. happiest birthday to our riki! i love you, little guy.

Things between you and your boyfriend were slightly awkward.

Granted, you'd only made it official a week and a half ago – but something about the way he didn't hold your hand made you feel a bit confused. The way he never got too close if you were over at his dorm for a movie night, the way he'd hug you loosely as he dropped you off at home after a date or just dropping by to check on you. The way he'd gently reject your advances at public affection, opting to smile apologetically as he ruffled your hair.

The way he hadn't kissed you yet, despite the amount of time you spent together, the many dates and what he thought were his unnoticed longing glances.

You were truly in no rush. You knew that this was something new for the two of you, the first relationship either of you had ever been in. You met a year ago, at a record shop shortly after your eighteenth birthday. He may not be into prolonged skinship or public displays of affection, but he flirted with you like it was nobody's business. He poked fun at you as you blushed at his compliments, eager to make you smile and eventually, you allowed his charms to make him a little spot in your heart.

So despite not being outwardly physically affectionate, he had a way with words that made your cheeks hot and your chest flutter. He never stopped flirting with you, even during the many dates he took you on – even with the onlookers, he never minded. Murmurs of pretty girl and gorgeous as he directed your attention to things or simply didn't feel like calling your name, careful maneuvers through crowded areas with his hand ghosting over the small of your back, playful pinches to your cheeks.

Your first date had been very different than you'd expected – the two of you simply perused a farmers market that was a few miles out of the city. He bought you flowers and lunch, and the two of you got to know each other better over stalls upon stalls of jewelry and fine linens, fresh fruit and chopped vegetables ready to be juiced. You'd fully expected him to want to kiss you as he dropped you home, but he only blushed as you made the move. His fingers pinched to your cheek as he stopped you with a soft shake of his head.

"Next time, promise." Next time lingered with a bit of tension, that date being the Christmas light show that came to town every year. He bought the tickets, he picked you up. The two of you opted to share a hot cocoa after seeing how big the cups were, and your lipstick stained his lips a muted berry color. You took pictures at a few trees, and this was the date that soft-launched your flourishing relationship on social media – him posting a picture of you staring at a pink tree with white lights and you posting a picture of a Polaroid a vendor took of you for a dollar.

But still, even after several perfect opportunities, there was no kiss. He dropped you off at home, letting you know he had a good time and wanted to see you again before the year ended. You nodded, and lingered at your door with a pointed look. He bid you a goodnight and you disappointedly said it back, slinking into your house with a dejected look.

The next date was unfortunately after the New Year – you'd gotten sick and he felt awful, stopping by several times to bring you soup and cold medicine. Your mother met him then, and told you that he'd make a great boyfriend – you'd huffed in response, muttering that he didn't even want to hold your hand. Your mother sighed and told you those things took time, to be patient, to be understanding. You slept on it, knowing it would be worth the wait but still feeling a bit undesired.

The date after your cold subsided was one inside – bowling and arcade games. You beat him by a landslide, your last roll a perfect strike. He complained the entire time the two of you wandered around the rest of the arcade, and only stopped when you pulled him into a photo booth. Your poses were of a shy couple just learning to be together, and you were honest with him – you wanted to kiss in one of the pictures. He looked hesitant, offering an alternative almost immediately and you reluctantly agreed – the last photo being of him kissing your cheek gently. He dropped you off that night with another press of his lips to your warmed skin, and a warm apology that you accepted quietly.

You felt your heart warm when you saw the photo strip hanging from his rearview mirror the next time he picked you up, a hole punched in the white border and a soft pink string looped through it. So much so, that you let it go. You stopped asking, but he continued to press gentle kisses to your cheeks and forehead throughout the rest of your dates, accumulating to almost eighty dates within eleven months – you never went more than four days without seeing him in some way or another.

And yet, despite the flirty words, his touch remained reserved. Through eleven months, he swiped your hair out of your face, he continued to pinch your cheeks between his fingers. He kissed your cheeks occasionally, usually on the drop-off or spontaneously every once in a while. He upgraded slowly to ruffling your hair, tying your shoelaces, zipping up your coat. He was sweet, attentive, coy and he made it known he was deeply interested in you.

It'd been almost a year to the date of meeting when he asked you to be his girlfriend during the first snow of the season. The two of you had snuck out to a park late that night, and he was admiring the way you hung upside down from the monkey bars, before he offered to help you get down. You agreed, asking if he'd be willing to get something warm. 

You wound up in a little hole-in-the-wall ramen shop the two of you had gone to during one of your first dates. You recounted it, remembering how you'd burned your tongue on the broth and he'd sprinkled sugar in your mouth, stating he'd seen it somewhere. It hadn't worked but it was funny and you shared a laugh, when he cleared his throat and said he had something serious to tell you.

"Are you okay?" Your worried tone startled him, the way your brows tugged down and your eyes grew filled with concern. He nodded quickly, "I'm fine, I just…sorry, this is hard for me." "It's okay. I'm here." You reached for his hand, but quickly retracted it. He shook his head, reaching for your hands and running his thumbs over your knuckles. "I really, really like you, Y/N." Oh no, you'd thought. He's going to dump me and we're not even together.

The very thought had made your eyes well with tears, his silence deafening as he stared at your hands. You wore a ring he'd bought you at a fair on one of your dates, the dragon egg-like stone shimmering in the low light of the shop when he finally looked back at you. His eyes widened at the sight of you blinking back tears, his hands quickly moving to cradle your face.

"Oh baby, don't cry. What's wrong?" His concern only made your heart sink deeper, the pet name he'd never used before flying over your head as your fingers circled his wrists, the metal of his watch cold against your fingertips. 

"If you're going to dump me–"

"Dump you? No, no, pretty. I wanted to make this official, I just…I'm sorry, I'm so bad at this–"

Your cheeks heated beneath his fingers, your tears blurring your vision as you looked at him. You blinked, a few tears sliding down your face as he tried to wipe them away. 

"You what?" He sighed, his cheeks coated in a bright pink blush as he cleared his throat. "I…want to be your boyfriend." You only looked at him, before letting out a shaky breath. "You are bad at this."

"Is that a no?" He asked meekly, and you swatted at his arms. "You're so bad at asking things! I'm crying, Riki!" "Baby, I'm sorry!" He laughed softly, holding your wrists in his hands. "I didn't know how to ask and I was too nervous to ask Jake. He's too involved in our relationship as it is." Riki rolled his eyes as you registered the pet name, your lip jutting out in a pout as you whined. "You called me baby."

His eyes widened, then narrowed as he thought about it. "Haven't I been calling you that? I swear I have."

You scoffed, "Must've been one of your other girls." He smirked, "Which one?" He didn't manage to dodge the soft smack you landed on his thigh, a pout on his lips as he rubbed his leg. "You want to be my boyfriend but you talk about other girls, we both know I'm the only one hitting your line up." "All the more reason to let me be your boyfriend! C'mon, pretty! I'll be the best boyfriend ever, I'll even buy your mom flowers like I did that one time when she was sick!" He folded his hands together as if praying, making you snort as you wiped your face of stray tears. "What took you so long?" He huffed, "I just wanted to make sure you wanted to be with me. Every time I see you I feel like I'm about to throw up." "Riki…did you just call me ugly?" You chided, and his eyes widened as he shook his head quickly, his hands cradling your face. "What? No! You're the prettiest girl ever, please–" "Calm down, you big baby. I guess you can be my boyfriend." You rolled your eyes, and his eyes widened as he leaned closer into your space. "Really?!" "Yes, really." 

The night ended with him walking you home, practically vibrating out of his own skin as he held your hand tightly the entire way. It'd given you a lot of comfort, but you didn't mention it as he dropped you off at home, your mother waiting on the porch with her robe on and an angry look on her face. She ushered you inside and you were grounded for three days before she decided it wasn't the worst thing in the world – specifically when Riki appeared with the biggest bouquet of flowers you'd ever seen and the softest pout known to man.

She allowed him in and you had a movie night in your bedroom, before he promptly kissed your cheek goodnight and went home. 

Fast forward a few days, the Christmas light show was back in town for the year. Riki bought the tickets, picked you up and you shared yet another comically large cup of hot cocoa, your lipstick a wine red this year. He held your hand gently, his thumb rubbing gentle circles into your skin as he held you close to him. You scoured the different figurines this year, your eyes caught by the enormous lovebird display – two swans made by champagne-colored lights and formed into a heart by their necks.

You lingered a bit at it, letting go of Riki's hand to get a closer look. He took a few photos discreetly, before eventually joining your side and moving your hair carefully out of your face. "Something on your mind, baby?" He asked gently, tucking his hands into his coat pockets. You shook your head, smiling at him softly. "It's silly." "Mmh, nothing is silly if you're thinking so hard about it. Talk to me, pretty." He taps your temple, and you shrug. "It's okay. I'm in no rush." "No rush to what? Stop being so cryptic, you know it freaks me out. It's like you're plotting something." He pinches your cheek between his knuckles softly, and you roll your eyes as you swat his hand away. "You know, it's been almost a year since we met and you still haven't kissed me?" He doesn't meet your eyes as you say this, opting to look at the swans in front of you. "Mmh." He nods, before looking at his feet, nudging a bit of gravel with the tip of his boot. You calmly loop your arm with his, sliding your hand into his pocket and intertwining your fingers. He glances down at you, a soft blush on his cheeks that you want to attribute to the biting wind. "Why?" You ask, and he tongues his cheek before shrugging. "It makes me nervous, I guess." "Nervous?" Your voice is an echo of him, albeit slightly concerned. "Yeah. You make me nervous. I literally almost threw up the night I asked you to be my girlfriend." "Correction, you asked to be my boyfriend." You say pointedly, and he scoffs. "Me being your boyfriend makes you my girlfriend." "You sure like calling me your girlfriend, huh?" Your arm nudges him, and he huffs in embarrassment, looking away. You lean your head on his shoulder, staring back up at the swans. A cliché example of lovers, you know, but a lovely one nonetheless. 

"You know I don't mind waiting, right? I'm sure we will eventually." You murmur, and he sighs.

"I know, I'm sorry. I want to, I promise. I just…" 

You glance at him, the way he chews on his lip anxiously as he trails off makes your stomach sink. 

"I'm sorry for bringing it up, we don't have to keep talking about this." You pat his chest, an apologetic smile on your lips as he meets your eyes. They're serious, a look you'd only ever seen on him a few times. You drop your hand from his chest and he moves the two of you down the path.

You see a few more displays, taking pictures within all the decorated trees and once more paying the same vendor from last year for a Polaroid. You both smile and it goes into Riki's wallet. "For safekeeping," He'd whispered into your hair as he placed a soft kiss on the crown of your head.

The two of you wandered out of the show hand in hand, and Riki offers to stop somewhere for dinner before he drops you off at home. It's routine, the way he opens your door, the way he buckles your seatbelt in for you. The way he hands you the aux and you play jazz fusion, Tutu by Miles Davis filling his car the way it always has after a date.

"I've never kissed anyone." He murmurs as you reach the first stoplight out of the show. His fingers are wrapped loosely around the bottom of the steering wheel, and you nod, looking at him. "Me either, it's no big deal. We'll learn, when the time comes." "It's not that I don't want to. You know that, right?" His voice is shaky as he flicks on his turn signal, and you nod again. "I'm sure you want to, but there really is no rush. I'm not the only one who's waiting, you know? We went on eighty dates, Riki. We've got all the time in the world." Your fingers toy with his earrings, before you card your fingers through his hair. "It's just you and me, yeah?" "Yeah." He's quiet, and you know it's weighing on him as the two of you make the drive to your favorite diner. The two of you share an appetizer, his head resting on your shoulder as you talk about your new part-time job and how you'd miss popping by the record store to bring him lunch. He listened intently as the food came and went, only responding softly to any questions you asked him.

It weighed on you when he was quiet on the way to your house, and how softly he bid his goodbye with a kiss to your hairline and his arm around your shoulders. "Sleep well, baby." Your heart felt heavy in your chest as the next few days went by and he seemed distant. You both planned another date for the arcade, and agreed he'd pick you up after his shift at the record store. You dressed casually, one of his old t-shirts and a pair of black jeans. You wore heavy boots to brace the cold, and nearly tripped over your own feet when he knocked on your front door

"Coming!" You called, your mother poking her head out of the kitchen upon hearing you yell. "Leaving already, honey?" "Yeah, date night." You reply sheepishly, unlocking the door with fumbling fingers and your coat half off your body, and opening it to reveal your boyfriend holding yet another bouquet of flowers. Your eyes were wide, as you stopped pulling your coat on. "For my mom?" You nod, and he shakes his head.

"For you. I'm sorry for being distant these past few days, it wasn't my intention and I'm sure it made you feel some type of way. I should've spoken to you about my feelings, and I know flowers aren't nearly enough but I hope it's a start?" He said meekly, and you scoff out a soft laugh, nodding as you take the flowers.

"Riki, it's okay. I know it's a sensitive topic." You smile apologetically, taking the flowers and turning on your heel. "I'll put these in my room, I'll be right back. Come inside." He doesn't say anything, just gives you a curt nod as he steps inside your house, closing the door and greeting your mother warmly. You quickly walk up the stairs, taking the cellophane off the flowers and setting them carefully in the vase you had sitting on your dresser from past bouquets he'd given you. You'll fill them with water later, you think, as you barrel back down the stairs. You see your boyfriend deep in thought as he and your mother speak, and you don't eavesdrop as you clear your throat. She stops talking, before giving him a warm smile and bidding you a good date night. You thank her, tell her you'll be home before the streetlights come on and a quick love you, bye!

"Let's zip this up, don't want you to get sick." Riki doesn't let you off your porch without zipping your coat up, grabbing your hand as you both step off. "Do you think you'll kick my ass bowling this time, too?" "I'm sure of it." You grin.

And you do. You take the lead within three frames, your boyfriend clearly distracted as he watches you roll strike after strike. You play three full games, his pout only getting deeper and deeper as you win each one.

"This is so unfair, how'd you get so good anyway?" He pouts as he slides a few coins into an air hockey table, and you shrug as you score the first point within the first few seconds. He gapes, and you just laugh as he, once more, loses this game.

The night goes smoothly, both of you scoring your wins and cutting your losses sorely. You both make faces at each other the moment one of you loses, but all is fair in love and arcade games when the night ends in the photo booth, your legs across your boyfriend's lap as he rests his hands on your knees. You fix his hair out of his eyes, the shaggy bangs tickling the bridge of his nose as you coo.

"Okay, how does my hair look? Frizzy?" You run your fingers through it and he shakes his head, watching as you dig your lipstick out of your purse. It's another deep red, and he feels his stomach fill with butterflies as you wipe the corners of your lips. "You look pretty." "You always say that." You roll your eyes, feeling your cheeks heat as he smiles, softly flicking your nose. "You always look pretty, baby." You huff, facing the camera and tucking your hair behind your ears before clearing your throat. "Smile first, right? That's what we did last time." "Yeah, that's cool. We can do….the cat thing? For the second one." He holds his fingers in two upside-down Vs over his hair, and you laugh, nodding. "Sure, sure." The camera begins to count down as you press the red button, and you smile as it flashes the two of you. You both scrunch your noses, blinking rapidly as you maneuver your hands to fit in the frame for the fifteen seconds it gives you. "Smile, babe." You say through gritted teeth, and he does just that as the camera flashes again.

"Shit, what now? Uh…" "Kiss me." He whispers, and you nearly snap your neck to face him. "What?!" "Kiss me." His hand moves to cradle your cheek, and you grab his wrist, hearing the camera start counting from ten. "Are you sure? We don't have to–" "I've wanted to kiss you for a year. Kiss. Me." He insists, and your heads both turn as the camera boasts five…four…

"I'm nervous." You admit, and he nods. "Me too. Just trust me, baby." Three…two…

You both breathe in shakily, before softly connecting your lips as the camera flashes brightly. You don't move away as the camera begins its last countdown from fifteen, instead you lean your forehead against his. His eyes peer up at you, and you feel a giggle erupt through you as you press your lips all over his face in chaste kisses. His cheeks grow hot under your lips, and the camera only continues it's countdown as your lipstick stamps all over his rosy cheeks.

"Smile for the camera." He mumbles, pressing his lips to your cheek as the camera reaches two, and smiles bashfully as it flashes one last time. The two of you watch the two strips pop out, and you reach for them. You hand him his, your other hand softly stroking his cheek as you stare at the pictures.

"We're cute." You nod, and he only smiles sheepishly. "Yeah. Was it okay? The kiss, I mean?" "Yeah. And we have it now, forever." You smile as you tuck the photo strip into your purse. He nods, clearing his throat, hoping you don't feel the way his heart skips a beat at the sound of you subconsciously admitting to a forever with him. "So…dinner? On me." "Shit, you have lipstick all over your face." You wince, and he shrugs. "Call it a perk, I guess. You can kiss me again to make up for it." "You're not slick, you know." You roll your eyes as the two of you exit the booth, and you thumb at the lipstick on his nose, only successful in smearing it. "I'm serious, I'm only taking payment in kisses now. So…pay up." "Shut up." You press your lips to his chastely, before shoving your purse over your shoulder as he grabs your hand, making you face him as you tug on your coat. "Seriously, we can stop by a pharmacy and get something to wipe your face." "No, these are my battle scars. I fought relentlessly against my urge to kiss you for a year, I deserve to celebrate this win." He scoffs as he zips up your coat, and you only scoff out a laugh, slipping your fingers in his. "Whatever, loser." And you don't say anything else about it. Not when your waitress stares at him a little too hard as she takes your order, not when your mother gapes at him and you as he drops you off, and certainly not when he kisses you goodnight, a murmur of I'll see you later against your lips before you slip inside your house.

You flop onto your bed after your shower, assuming your boyfriend has long been asleep as you reminisce about the events of the day. Your stomach fills with butterflies as you cover your face with a squeal, reaching for your phone – only to see a notification that your boyfriend posted something on his Instagram.

You open it, seeing a slideshow of photos – one of you in front of the champagne swans at the light show earlier that month, one of the new photo strip hanging alongside the old one in his car, and one of you at the beginning of the entire ordeal. You're sitting at the farmers market, your eyes casted away from the camera as you blushed, likely at something Riki had said. You don't remember him taking that photo, but it doesn't matter as you listen carefully to the song he'd put over it – the melodic sound of Heart by Dawn.

You glance at the caption with a thundering heart, your eyes welling with tears as you read. @/nishimura05: two sides of the same heart, and mine that only beats for you. your patience is beyond me, but i am eternally grateful for the man you make me want to become. thinking of you, always.

BABEYUN © 2024. no translations, reposting or modifications are allowed. do not claim as your own. viewer discretion is advised. your media consumption is your responsibility.

[fawniswriting]

Mr. Congressman

The above image does not indicate the reader's physical appearance.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Synopsis: After Congressman James Buchanan Barnes buys you a drink at the bar, your night takes a turn for a more passionate one.

Word Count: 7.3k

Warning(s): no use of Y/N. use of the nickname angel and sweetheart. alcohol consumption. lots of flirting. smut (18+ mdni)—dirty talk, so much praising, handjob, vaginal fingering, oral sex (f!receiving), multiple orgasms (reader), unprotected sex (p in v), creampie. lmk if I missed anything!!

Author's Note: I decided to drop this while I'm rewriting the next chapter of Faithfully Yours. I've wanted to write Congressman Bucky for awhile but didn't know what kind of story to make until this idea came upon me. For the record, smut is my kryptonite, and it took a lot of miracle for me to even finish this up. I genuinely have developed a new kind of appreciation for all of you smut writers out there. Anyways, the concept of this story sounded a lot better in my head, but hopefully this isn't that bad for a first attempt and I hope you'll still like it xx don't forget to comment/like/reblog to support :)

Bucky Barnes Masterlist

“Your drink, Ma'am.”

The bartender slides a tall flute across the counter, settling it beside the empty glass of spritzer you downed earlier. It doesn't take long for you to recognize the fruity aroma wafting through the air, the rusty red liquid rising in tiny bubbles as you scrutinize the drink with furrowed brows.

The Minimalist Bar and Lounge is nestled on the ground floor of Rosewood Hotel in Georgetown, Washington, D.C. The bar's interior exudes subtle sophistication, its dim lighting casting amber reflections across the polished mahogany counter. Soft piano jazz hums through the speakers overhead, cruising into the low murmurs of the sparse Thursday night crowd. 

You look up towards the bartender, a middle-aged man with laugh lines creasing his tan skin, and push the glass slightly towards him. “I didn't order this.”

“A gentleman sent it over,” he apprises, tapping his fingers against the counter with a knowing smile. “Says to tell you that you've got an admirer.”

Before you can say more, the bartender gives you a cheeky wink, striding away to whip up an order from another customer.

You drag the slender glass closer, spinning the drink around until the golden liquid at the top simmers into the red. As soon as you take an intrepid sip, the sweet tang of blackcurrant explodes in your mouth, compelling you to hum favorably at the familiar flavor coating your tongue.

You have barely set your glass back down when a deep voice suddenly erupts by your side.

“May I join you?”

The low, rough timbre of the voice sends a shiver down your back, chased away immediately by the warm presence that has settled next to you. Shifting in your seat, you tilt your head and lock eyes with another pair in cerulean, breath hitching in your throat when you take in the scent of fine spices mixing sedulously with bergamot.

Congressman James Buchanan Barnes is a sight to behold within the quiet establishment. With his tall stature and lean muscles stretching taut under the fancy suit, he is bound to attract every thread of attention in the room. The faint gray dusting his stubbled cheeks only adds to the man's overall charm, and as he peers down at you from his full, subjugating height, you can't help but ponder about how none of his pictures ever did his attractiveness justice.

Gathering your composure, you manage a small smile before nodding towards the empty seat beside you. ”Of course.”

The congressman doesn't waste time sliding into the stool, reciting his order towards the bartender with a practiced speech and a methodical gesture of his hand. His whole focus is back on you in a matter of seconds, bright ocean blue eyes taking in your features like curators would a priceless piece of Monet. You burn under his blatant appreciation, trying to mask the crack in your poise by taking another sip of your cocktail. 

“How's the drink?” he asks, the curve of his lips discreet but genuine under the warm lighting.

“It's good.” You set the glass down, tilting your body to the side until your knees nearly touch his. “I gather you're the one who sent it?”

Congressman Barnes doesn't say anything in return. He only continues staring at you—as if nothing else exists in the world at that moment except for the woman sitting in front of him—but the glint of mirth in his pupils tells you everything you need to know.

Your knees bump into his. “Very smooth, Congressman.”

The corner of his lips tilt higher. “Call me Bucky.”

Your eyebrows rise.

Before you can give a response, the bartender returns carrying the congressman's order of a classic Old Fashioned. Congressman Barnes accepts the drink with an easy nod, his fingers curling around the short tumbler as he turns towards you again. 

“It's what my friends call me,” he adds, smirking behind the rim of his glass.

“Is that what we are now?” you muse, eyes flicking twice between his hypnotizing eyes and kissable lips. “Friends?”

The man chuckles. He puts down his glass with a deliberate slowness, each stretch of movements calculated and needlessly arousing. Then, he leans in, just enough to steal the air between the two of you, just enough to make the world beyond to begin blurring around the edges.

“Angel—” his voice dips, the raspy edge floating along your skin, “—we can be whatever you want us to be.”

A shudder runs through your spine. You try convincing yourself that it is due to the chill in the air and the sheer material of your dress, but the simultaneous quickening of your heartbeat, along with the rush of goosebumps across your skin completely banishes that attempt. It was all your body's reaction to Congressman Barnes, and he knows this. He can read you like a goddamn open book—pinpoint the slightest change in your posture, detect the tiniest rise in your pulse, and spot the way your pupils dilate with each second your gaze stays locked on him.

He leans even closer, the ghost of his metal fingertips venturing the skin of your knee until he catches the silent gasp in your throat.

It excites him.

Biting your lip, you shuffle slightly to your side to escape his electrifying touch, putting on a pristine smile while pretending as though your composure weren't currently lying in tiny broken shards on the floor.

“Well, Bucky—” your voice is soft, baiting as you reach for your flute on the counter, “—thank you for the drink. How'd you know Kir Royale's my favorite?”

The smirk on Congressman Barnes’—Bucky's—face widens. 

“Simple, sweetheart.” His velvet voice drips with amusement. “I just picked something that suits you the best.”

Bucky's fingers drift along the edge of the bar, brushing against your own hand and pulse point, lingering there as if committing the rhythm of your heart into memory. By the dark flicker in his gaze, you know that he must have caught the stutter in your heartbeat, the indisputable evidence of his infuriating effect on your being.

Without breaking eye contact, Bucky plucks the glass from your grasp, his fingers warm where yours have been.

“Something sweet,” Bucky murmurs, swirling the red liquid before lifting the drink to his lips. He takes a long, unhurried sip, letting the moment stretch, cerulean blue smoldering into your eyes over the rim. “Seductive.” 

He sets the glass back down with a soft clink. Never once taking his attention off you. Tracing his heated gaze over your entire body in a way that sends fire searing through your skin.  

“And dangerous,” he finishes with a husky whisper, heavy with tension and unspoken revelations.

“Dangerous?” Your eyes twinkle. “How am I dangerous?”

Bucky huffs a quiet laugh, flashing you his striking pearly whites. “You kidding me? A woman like you, looking like that.” 

His eyes roam the length of your legs, landing on the skin of your thigh peeking through the slit of your dress, delicate and tempting. Bucky's tongue darts out, wetting his lips as he takes a moment to admire you.

“And that dress—” his eyes dip lower to your chest, drinking in the sight of your exposed collarbones and the shape of your curves, lingering too long as if it were the first time he ever laid eyes upon a woman, “—is the very definition of sin, sweetheart.”

A surge of delight curls your lips as you sway slightly in your seat, letting the dress grip tighter around your frame like a second skin, feeling the material shift just enough to taint Bucky's eyes with something prurient. Your fingers slither down the side of your body, half-conscious of Bucky's heated gaze that seems to map the path of your provocative touch.

“Do you like it? It's new,” you goad coyly, caressing your body through the silk. “I bought it today for a special occasion.”

Bucky's eyes crinkle at the corner, his pupils glistering with intrigue. “Yeah? Like a first date, Angel?” He takes a casual sip of the amber liquid in his glass, his nose scrunching up in thought as he plays along. “Bought it for a boyfriend? A husband, perhaps?” 

You fight off the thrill traveling through your veins and answer, shrugging nonchalantly, “Something like that.”

The tip of Bucky's mouth lifts. “What a lucky bastard,” he says earnestly, eyes drilling into yours as if he wants to bury himself there.

You evade his intense stare, feigning interest at your cocktail instead. “What about you?”

“What about me?”

“Well,” you pause purposefully, studying all of the sharp edges that forge the man sitting in front of you, picturing all of the tenderness that he has concealed beneath the crisp white shirt and that impeccable tux of his. “Are you here on business? Or something else?”

Bucky's eyes wander towards the rows of bottles and liquors lining the wall of the bar, tweaking his bow tie as though just now remembering that it was there in the first place.

“Business,” he replies, straightforward, the pad of his index finger circling the lip of his glass on the counter. But then his eyes fly upward, sealing you in place. “Maybe a bit of pleasure as well.”

You hum, leaning closer until you feel the neckline of your dress flitter recklessly from your skin, divulging parts of you that manage to reclaim Bucky's sole interest. “Is that so?”

His throats bob.

There is no mistaking the whirr of his vibranium arm as the fingers clench, metal plates shifting in tandem with the torrent of desire rushing through Bucky’s mind. He imagines dropping his head to your chest, trailing wet, open-mouthed kisses on the expanse of skin, coaxing gasps and sounds of pleasure from those perfect, alluring lips. He imagines sinking to his knees, running his mouth up the length of your leg until he reaches the one place that would make you quiver and crumble in his mercy. Worshipping at your altar like a madman finally finding the true meaning of religion.

Public decency be damned. 

But before he can open his mouth, before he gets the chance to act on the budding ache tightening his slacks, the ringing coming out of his suit pocket stops him dead in tracks.

Bucky curses.

You study him curiously, taking in the augmenting scowl on his face as he glimpses at the screen of his phone. Nursing your drink, you let your voice soften while asking, “Something urgent?”

“No.” Bucky is quick to answer, shoving the phone back into his pocket like he is eager to be rid of the gadget. “Not at all. Nothing more important than you, Angel.”

The next round of ringing downright betrays his words.

It takes Bucky a copious amount of willpower to not launch the despicable device across the room. He grits his teeth, blue eyes hurling invisible daggers towards the number on the screen, a number belonging to one of the jerk-ass faces with whom he has no intention of doing business at this moment in time. Bucky wishes he could just block the sleazy bastard's number and be done with it.

But he can't.

Because as hard as Bucky tries to shed the new title when he steps out of the confined spaces of his office, at the end of the day, he is not merely Bucky Barnes anymore.

He is Congressman James Buchanan Barnes.

And playing nice with people he would rather punch in the face is, unfortunately, part of the unofficial job description.

Bucky heaves a sigh, running an exasperated palm across his face before his repentant gaze finds yours. 

“I have to—” he pauses, voice thick with guilt and frustration.

Bucky expects you to scowl, to see the same kind of disappointment that is gnawing at him etching on your beautiful face. Instead, all he finds is your effortless smile, the kind that has the power to wage a war or two. It makes something inside him lurch.

“You should take the call, Mr. Congressman.”

You glide out of the comfort of your seat with ease, finishing your drink and collecting your stone-studded clutch in hand. Bucky moves to protest, nearly leaping out of his own seat to prevent you from leaving, but the soothing press of your palm against his chest renders him back in place.

“Finish the call,” you tell him, adamant. Above the counter, your hand skims forward, furtively sliding something under Bucky's own palm before your fingers squeeze his in fervent. “And when you're done, come find me.”

Upon your departure, Bucky turns his hand over, smiling to himself when he sees the key card with a room number scribbled on the paper holder. He examines your retreating figure once his head lifts, consuming the languid sway of your hips, the way your silk dress is clinging to every hard and soft edges that sculpt your captivating figure. 

His body tenses with the urge to follow, to sneak his palm onto the small of your back and guide you towards where he knows this night is leading. But the shrill ringtone of his phone is relentless against his eardrums, ousting the compulsion away, forcing him to tear his gaze off as he answers the call with a clenched jaw.

As he brings the phone to his ear, Bucky's flesh hand flexes around the key card, letting the corner dig into the center of his palm, a silent reminder that the night is far from being over yet.

The clean smell of cotton bedsheets and the tang of lavender air freshener greet you the moment you step into your hotel room. Inside, though, your lungs constrict, yearning instead for the scent of cloves and bergamot that you left behind at the bar alongside the handsome gentleman who possesses it.

Your heels are discarded somewhere in the foyer before you tread indolently towards the bathroom, going to the sink to splash some water on your face, mindful not to mess the makeup you have expertly painted on earlier in the evening. The cold water does little to eliminate the heat on your cheeks, the same one that now travels through your entire body as your skin tingles with the phantom touch of a certain super soldier turned congressman.

It should be illegal—the facile power he holds over you.

The carpet is plush underneath your steps as you exit the bathroom, sauntering towards the balcony and delighting in the breath of late May’s fresh air that hails you when you walk through the sliding doors. Washington, D.C. sprawls out beneath you in a tapestry of scintillating lights and colossal silhouettes. From your vantage point, The Potomac snakes through the city like a ribbon of obsidian, its surface catching the occasional reflection of passing headlights, glinting in contrast against the ink-dark sky. The Capitol's dome gleams in the distance, a beacon of order and principle, while the Washington Monument stands unyielding like a silent sentinel. 

The city buzzes with life even at this hour, cars speeding through the streets and far off laughter resonating from the avenues below. And yet, even with all of its grandeur, the city's view still pales in comparison with the images of him in your mind—the way his blue eyes darkened when he took you in, the way he ignited your body just from a single touch. No matter how much you try to focus on the cityscape, your thoughts inevitably circle back to him: Bucky Barnes. Every time you blink, he is there—braided into the crevasses between your heartbeats, dithering in the warmth still coiled beneath your skin.

As though summoned by the constant notions of him in your head, you catch the unmistakable sound of the front door unlocking, followed closely by the echo of heavy footsteps entering the room.

When you emerge from the balcony, Bucky is already standing in the middle of the lush executive suite, shedding off his tuxedo jacket and bow tie where they end up in a pile above the sofa. He looks up at the sound of the sliding doors being locked, the stress in his shoulders dissipating when his eyes finally find yours. 

Examining him from head to toe, you lean your shoulder against the balcony door and ask, “How was the phone call?”

“Fine,” Bucky answers simply. “I took care of it.”

“Hm. Good.”

The atmosphere desiccates with tension. There is a flame starting in the pit of your stomach, one that you’re trying miserably to quell before it grows into something destructive and menacing. But the way Bucky is looking at you from the distance, so stubborn and piercing, suggests that he already knows what kind of turmoil your body is currently battling with itself.

Clearing your throat, you walk over to the assortment of liquors available in the mini bar, avoiding Bucky’s stare as you ask, “Would you like something to drink?”

Reaching for the undoubtedly expensive wine, you turn it over in your hand, nearly dropping the bottle when Bucky replies, “I don’t know, sweetheart. Kinda craving something else right now.”

Your chest hammers as you listen to the scratch of shoes against the floor, the surrounding temperature rising with each breadth of space Bucky erases with his footsteps. He is a fortress when he finally stands behind you—a man of battle and steel, whose hands have seen bloodshed beyond your wildest nightmares, whose same hands are now ghosting over your arms with a tenderness that tugs at your heartstrings.

Bucky drops his head on the nape of your neck, his breaths spluttering as he grounds himself with a grip around each of your forearms. Your stomach folds at the brush of his plump lips against your skin, the nudge of his nose as he breathes in your scent like it was an appropriate substitute for oxygen.

“What are you doing to me?” he bleats, almost to himself, sucking in a bruise to your pulse point that wrenches a gasp out of your throat.

“Bucky.” You sigh, the bottle of wine long forgotten as it stands lonesome on the counter. Turning in his arms, you are faced instantly with the intense blue of Bucky’s eyes, brimming with a hunger so conspicuous it threatens to consume you whole. You card your fingers through his hair, rejoicing in the gravelly rumble Bucky makes over the simple touch. “I could ask you the same thing.”

In Bucky’s company, the extravagant suite around you feels smaller, as if the walls were closing in to bear witness to the charged moment simmering in the meager space separating you both. Metal fingers sweep your jaw, featherlight yet sizzling, treading carefully before finding purchase on the side of your face. You barely register what is happening before Bucky’s lips are suddenly on yours—kissing you, claiming you, molding against yours in a dance of affection that soon bleeds into desperation. 

Bucky swallows every whimper and plea, his tongue exploring your mouth as if the kiss itself has become his soul's main source of sustenance. His vibranium palm on your cheek is alleviating, but his flesh hand on your waist is rough, gripping tenaciously, pushing you back until your spine is pinned between his imposing frame and the mini bar's counter. His lips teeter away from the kiss to find your jaw, trailing a path down your neck until there is no inch of skin free from the adornment of his marks.

He slots his thigh between your legs, nudging against the place where you yearn for him the most, making you mewl.

“Bucky, please,” you cry out, grinding yourself down on the toned muscles of his thigh.

“Fuck, sweetheart. Can't believe you're wrecked and bothered already,” Bucky muses, eyes drifting downward to drink in the erotic roll of your hips. “And I haven't even started yet.”

You should be embarrassed, should be alarmed by the mess you have become from just a single kiss. But any semblance of self-consciousness in your body evaporates in the blink of an eye, especially when Bucky yanks at the flimsy straps of your gauzy dress without so much as a warning, tearing it clear from your frame and letting it pool in a pathetic heap around your feet.

“Bucky!” you shriek, half from shock and half from the cold air that has suddenly enveloped your skin.

The man only licks his lips. “I'll buy you another one.”

You do not protest after that—not when his eyes rove over you as if you were the long-awaited feast to his ravenous beast. A thrill runs down your spine, satisfaction blooming in your chest at the way his stare lingers on the lacy matching set you so carefully chose to don for the night. It was meant to be a simple indulgence—a cute little thing you bought on a whim after catching a glimpse of it while you were out window shopping with friends—but now, under Bucky’s shameless admiration, the lacy number feels like the most brilliant spending decision you have ever made in life.

“Goddamn, Angel,” Bucky rasps, his teeth sinking down onto his bottom lip. “You sure as hell know how to send a man to their knees.”

“And yet, here you are.” You raise your eyebrows. “Still standing.”

The grin he rewards you is a thousand times brighter than the sun. “Not for long.”

Bucky drops his head lower, trailing open-mouthed kisses across your décolletage, nibbling on the silky skin that borders the line of your lacy bra. He makes quick work unclasping the garment and tossing it to the side, the cool air briskly nipping at your skin before his mouth is back on you once more, lavishing attention on each sensitive peak until you are trembling in his arms.

“Oh, Bucky,” you murmur amorously.

“I know, sweetheart.” He pinches your nipple, forcing you to bite his shoulder to stifle your squeal. “God, you’re one beautiful thing.”

His journey continues southward, across your torso, all the way down to your most private area. Bucky is kneeling before you now—the madman finally paying reverence to his most beloved goddess—and he looks absolutely fucking ecstatic. The sight of him between your legs, mouth-watering and aching to taste, is enough to have your head spinning in anticipation.

“I can smell you.” Bucky groans, sinking his head to press a kiss on your clothed core. The contact sends you spiraling over the precipice. “So fucking pretty. My pretty angel.”

Bucky's hands caress the back of your thighs, the contrast between flesh and metal sending a jolt of electricity through your veins. He dips his head again, this time wrapping his mouth around your mound, and starts eating you out despite the barrier of your panties.

You moan wantonly at his sinful attention, nearly collapsing to the floor if it weren't for Bucky's firm support keeping you upright. He fidgets with the fringe of your underwear, holding the fabric to the side to coat two of his flesh digits with your wetness.

“So wet for me already,” he murmurs, lapping at his soaked fingers with a blissful look across his face. “Tastes like nectar, sweetheart.”

“Bucky,” you whine, pulling at his shoulder-length hair until his blue eyes are locked onto yours. “No teasing.”

The shit-eating grin on his face would have aggravated you if it weren't for how unbelievably gorgeous he looks, kneeling at your mercy.

“Yes, Ma'am.”

Without wasting another second, Bucky lets go of your underwear with a final kiss on your covered clit, standing to his feet and hauling you up in his arms all in one breath. You yelp in surprise, securing your legs around Bucky's waist as he carries you efficiently towards the bed, the delicious friction of his pants compelling your inner walls to tense in ardor, making you crave him even more.

Bucky ensures that your back meets the mattress gently before he withdraws, though your whine of protest stops him before he can go far, your arms reaching for him as he takes your hands with a laugh.

“Eager, are we?” he asks impishly, peppering tiny kisses across your knuckles.

“Only for you, Buck.”

Bucky's smile softens, his lips securing a final kiss on the back of your hand before his deft fingers start undoing the buttons of his shirt. You observe with bated breath as he reveals the muscular panes of his torso, biting your lower lip when his hands begin working on his belt buckle and dress slacks.

Once he is back on you again, this time in nothing but the thin fabric of his boxer, it feels like everything in your life has slid right into place.

“Hi,” Bucky says, breathless, a boyish grin stretching his lips into a charming curve.

“Hi, handsome.”

You wrap your arms around his neck, lugging him down into a heated kiss and relishing in the feeling of metal fingers pinching your hip. Every sensation is amplified as his breath stumbles in your mouth, the softness of his lips contrasting with his metallic touch. Your hand wanders the expanse of skin, exploring the river of veins and the constellation of freckles, drawing random patterns down Bucky's abdomen until you reach the waistband of his drawers.

When your palm slips inside, circling around his hardening length, Bucky stammers into the kiss.

“Angel.” His voice comes out as a guttural moan. “What are you doing?”

“Wanna make you feel good, Buck.” You bury your nose in his temple, kissing the corner of his eye. “Please.”

Bucky barely has time to nod before your fingers scramble to rid him of the last barrier casing his body. His underwear is gone in a swift motion, ditched somewhere in the room through the haze of urgency. 

At last, Bucky is there—above you, all around you, entirely overwhelming in his presence—and the sight of him alone steals the breath from your very lungs. The austere glow of the room carves shadows along the solid lines of his body, every muscle and sinew sculpted into something unreal. His skin is littered by old scars and the passage of time, telling a story that you long to trace and memorize with every subtle scrape of your heart.

He is devastating—an Adonis chiseled not by gentle divinity, but by violence and calamity. And yet he is here, flesh and blood, naked and glorious, a whole man despite history and remorse masticating him bit by bit. And right now, Bucky Barnes is looking at you like you are the only thing in this world tethering him to reality.

Your heart constricts, synchronously with your pussy, catching you somewhere between awe and want as you reach for him once more.

At the first grip of your fingers around his shaft, Bucky lets out a hiss.

“Is this okay?” you ask cautiously.

“God, yes,” Bucky respires, forehead creasing when you give an experimental squeeze around his girth. “Yes, sweetheart, it’s more than okay.”

His rough response motivates you to start pumping.

It doesn't take long for you to settle on a rhythm, moving your hand up and down, twisting and clutching until you are requited with his morose sighs and moans. Bucky is utterly beautiful like this—eyes shut, long hair shielding his face as his hips snap up to meet your depraved ministrations. Each moan that escapes him only drives you to move faster, your own pulse quickening as you feel him unraveling beneath your touch.

When your thumb resolutely swipes over his slit, Bucky's entire body staggers, a shuddering gasp tearing through his throat as he jerks in your grasp.

Your chest inflates with titillation. “You like that?”

“Y-Yes. Oh God,” Bucky stammers, burying his face in your neck when you repeat the movement again, collecting his precum. “Shit, Angel. M’ not gonna last if you keep that up.”

His admission only spurs you on, tightening your grip, encouraging your strokes to grow bolder. Bucky is a mess above you—all ragged breaths and sweat-slicked skin, every muscle in his body coiled like a rubber band on the verge of snapping. It is an addictive view, so intoxicating that you could live off it, spending the rest of your days ravaging him like this.

But before your dream can materialize, a calloused hand clamps around your wrist out of the blue, putting an end to your movements and forcing the thrill in your veins to a halt.

Your forehead knits in confusion as you stare into Bucky’s eyes.

“Gotta stop, sweetheart,” he pants, an easy but wrecked smile embellishing his gorgeous face. “Or else I'd blow before we even get to the good part.”

Heaving a deep sigh, you jut out your bottom lip and sulk. “Is that such a bad thing?”

“Christ, no.” Bucky chuckles. “Another time, I might take you up on that. But tonight?” He ducks his head, stealing a quick kiss that has you seeing stars. “I wanna be inside you when I cum.”

The promise catches you off guard, sending a dash of anticipation through your ribs and into every corner of your being. Bucky's fingers gently unwrap yours from his length, his cock still red and leaking from your recent attention. He regains control in no time, his lips descending upon your skin like a voyager mapping out a sacred route, pressing open-mouthed kisses as he charts a path down the curves of your body.

 His breath is warm against your stomach, each kiss dragging lower, teasing ruthlessly, until his fingers hook into your underwear and strip it away in one hasty, practiced motion. He groans at the sight of you, his voice thick with admiration and something more primal as his mouth lets out a muttered curse. 

“Jesus, sweetheart.” Bucky’s dark lashes flutter, drinking you in. “You’re a damn masterpiece.”

The raw compliment nudges your heart, brewing the fog in your mind until you are nothing but a heap of fire and lust. 

Words fly out of your head as Bucky eats you out like a man starved—licking, sucking, and biting with a desperation that borders on worship. His tongue moves in volitional strokes, alternating between featherlight flicks and deep siphoning of your bundle of nerves. Your fingers twist into Bucky's hair, tugging hard enough to earn a growl, the sound vibrating in pleasurable waves all throughout your body.

As if his current ministrations weren't enough, Bucky suddenly brings his metal fingers to your opening, prodding and unfolding gently, pushing two of his digits in until they are sheathed inside the heat of your weeping hole.

“Holy shit, Angel. Look at ya,” Bucky mutters, watching your walls throb around him as he pushes and retracts his vibrainum hand. The sight alone makes his own hardness twitch. “Soakin’ me like a dam, sweetheart. This all for me?”

“Yes, Bucky. No—ah! N-No one else,” you let out between helpless gasps, grinding despairingly onto Bucky's hand.

Bucky's pupils dilate, his eyes scanning you from head to toe as if immortalizing you into memory. The pace of his fingers is increasing by the minute—scissoring, curling, grasping for that one magical spot that never fails to ruin your whole being. Bucky's mouth returns on you in no time, nibbling and tracing with his tongue, humming heartily with every wrecked sound escaping from your chest.

“S-Shit. Bucky, that feels—mpphh. I'm s-so close—ah!”

The climax crashes into you in a matter of minutes, arriving like a tsunami, abrupt and earth-shattering. Bucky is patient as he guides you through it all, continuing the lazy licks on your clit and the slow pumps of his fingers inside you. He only relents when you begin squirming away from him, whining at the over-sensitivity aching through your bones.

“Are you okay?”

You blink through the mist in your vision, your eyes slowly refocusing on Bucky's concerned face.

He is a perfect picture of debauchery—kneeling on the bed in all of his majestic nudity, remnants of your release coating the nether part of his face. His question should be startling—the way it juxtaposes everything he has done to you thus far. However, Bucky Barnes is no man if he is not a decent one, and you let yourself find solace in that little fact as your lips widen into a smile.

“Bucky.” Your voice is sheer, grated away by the daze of satisfaction that still muddles your mind. “I am fantastic.”

A cheeky grin overtakes Bucky's lips as he crawls up your frame. 

“Fantastic, huh?”

“Hm.” You nod, cloaking his neck with your arms. “You're fantastic.”

Bucky seizes your lips in a kiss, allowing you to taste your own desire on his tongue. Moans spill out of your mouth at the delectable shove of his shaft on your wetness, cherishing the way Bucky returns each roll of your pelvis with his own, his haze-lidded mind reducing the once mighty soldier into a mess of broken whines and crushing rapture.

With a sudden tide of momentum, you push against the formidable wall of his chest, catching Bucky off guard as you send an abrupt shove that sends his back straight to the mattress.

Bucky blinks up at you, stunned, taking in the sight of your body above his, straddling his hips like they were a throne created specifically for you to sit on. His hands instinctively come up to grasp your thighs, fingers flexing against fiery skin as his gaze darkens with an avid yearning.

“Damn,” he breathes, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “Didn’t see that one comin’, sweetheart.”

You brush your mouth against his jaw. “I can’t wait any longer, Bucky. I need you inside me.”

A responding groan rumbles from Bucky's chest the moment you start to sink down, his cock stretching you open, filling you inch by inch until the two of you are joined as one. The world outside ceases to exist as you take him in, your bodies fusing together until there is no distance separating you two, no way of knowing where Bucky ends and you begin. 

You take a speculative roll of your hips, testing the waters, finding your footing before descending on a lascivious, steady tempo. Bucky's hands are explorative on your skin, caressing down your thighs and up your hips, all while mumbling breathy curses and gentle encouragement that crackles down to your hankering core.

"That’s it, Angel," Bucky rasps, his hands squeezing the plush flesh of your backside. "So damn beautiful. Feels like you were made for me.”

“Buckyyy,” you wail, your hands bracing on top the sturdy surface of his chest. “You feel—oh! S-So—uhh—so good.”

Euphoria stumbles past your lips in a concoction of jumbled words, babbling against Bucky's chest while occasionally littering his hard panes with kisses. Every nerve ending in your body is alight, every drag of him inside you a luscious reprieve. Your entire senses are heightened with everything Bucky.

The gallant man beneath you sits up slightly, drawing you down by your neck until your foreheads are wedged against one another.

“You tired, sweetheart?” His voice is the epitome of lust, woven discreetly by a tenderness that threatens to liquefy your bones.

A breathless nod is all you can manage. Before you can fully grasp what is happening, Bucky is already taking control, wrapping you in his embrace and thrusting up into you like there is no tomorrow. Each snap of his hips sends you spiraling closer to the edge, his name spilling from your lips over and over again like a prayer to the moon, the stars, and the universe.

“B-Bucky!” Your voice hitches. “P-Please, I want to—ahh.”

“I know, sweetheart. Come on,” he urges, rough and terse, a drastic contrast to the kiss he presses to your forehead. “Give it to me.”

The pinnacle crashes over your whole being in an explosion of colors and light. A sharp cry tears from your throat as your walls tighten around him, your entire body convulsing while Bucky holds you through it, murmuring praises into your cheek and peppering soft kisses all over your face. You lose track of how long the two of you stay in that position—your face nestled safely in the crook of Bucky's neck, his hands skimming abstract patterns on the dimple of your spine. 

The room is still buzzing in the aftermath of your orgasm when Bucky gently maneuvers you onto your back, switching places with you so that he is now hovering on top of your spent body. A quiet whimper escapes your throat the moment you feel him nudge against your over-sensitive core, the aftershocks still humming through your nerves like the echo of a symphony’s final crescendo.

Bucky notices immediately, his lips curving into a smirk as he brushes a hand down your cheek. “Too much, sweetheart?”

You swallow an empty air, the heat returning to your belly at the way Bucky is looking at you, like he is not nearly done devouring your body, mind, and soul. Still, he waits, his breath warm against your lips as his vibranium fingers stroke slow circles along your outer thigh.

“I know you’ve got one more in you,” he coaxes, sprinkling teasing kisses to your jaw, your throat, and the curve of your shoulder. “But I need to hear you say it, Angel. You want this?”

Despite the delicious ache between your legs—the overstimulation still singing beneath numerous layers of your skin—you don’t hesitate. You thread your fingers through his hair, tugging just enough to make him grunt.

“Yes,” you whisper, breath staggering when he moves his hips against yours. “Please, Bucky. I need you.”

Your confirmation is all he needs.

With a low, unruly sound, Bucky slams back into you, his restraint disintegrating as he buries himself to the hilt. This time, there is no leisure buildup—just raw, unadulterated need that ignites the blood coursing through your arteries. His rhythm is frantic and desperate, his hands bruising your waist like he needs to hold onto something real before he completely loses himself deeper in the bliss.

“Fuck. You're so tight, sweetheart. So warm and wet,” he groans, his forehead dropping against yours. “You feel perfect around me.”

You gasp at the thickness of him, the drag of each ridge of his length against your tender walls. Bucky is pounding relentlessly into you as he chases after his own release; the air between you thick with heat, with the sound of your bodies moving in an erotic, exquisite harmony.

“Oh, Bucky. Feels s-so good. So big.” You meet each of his thrusts eagerly, your body welcoming him as if the two of you were always meant to be one. “That's it. Ah, ah, t-take what you need, baby.”

A ragged moan rips from his throat, his movements turning erratic as he barrels toward the edge. Your walls shudder around him, making him stutter in his rhythm. 

“Grippin’ me like a vice, sweetheart.” Bucky's eyebrows furrow, jaw clenched as his gaze finds yours. “Can't last long. Gonna—fuck. Shit, shit, m’ gonna cum.”

You pull him down into a frenzied kiss, pouring every ounce of your need into him, letting him listen to the way your blood, your organs, and every other thing inside you chant his name like a prayer recited in reckless devotion.

Bucky trembles as he reaches his peak, spilling everything he has to give into the deepest crevice of your heat, his body tensing before melting into a pliable mass above you. A broken moan catches in your throat as the pleasure pummels into you once more, your limbs clinging to him with whatever bit of strength remains in the fragmented pieces of your body.

For a while, there are no words spoken between the two of you. Just the shared intakes of your breaths, the soft press of Bucky’s lips against your temple, and the grounding strokes of his fingers tracing along your skin. 

You shift slightly beneath him, tilting your head up to meet his gaze, and what you find there steals what little breath you have left—something reverent, something vulnerable. His thumb brushes over your cheek before he leans in, capturing your lips in a kiss so gentle and profound, a stark polarity to the frantic passion that has consumed you moments prior.

Bucky exhales a quiet chuckle once he withdraws, resting his forehead on top of yours.

"Christ, Angel," he mutters hoarsely, his voice strained with exhaustion and something unguarded. "You're gonna be the death of me.”

You hum, an appeased smile decorating your lips as you thread your fingers through his damp hair.

When Bucky finally pulls out, the absence of him leaves you aching and remarkably empty. Your body, already boneless from exhaustion, instinctively reaches for him, fingers grazing over his flesh hand in an attempt to search more of the warmth he naturally emits. Bucky chuckles, low and affectionate, his lips pressing a lingering kiss to the clammy skin of your forehead.

"Stay put, sweetheart. Gotta take care of you," he says before putting on his boxer and disappearing into the bathroom.

Bucky returns a moment later with a damp towel in hand. He goes to kneel beside you, his touch reposeful as he cleans you up with a forbearing care.  The first press of the cloth against your sensitive core has you sucking in a breath, a whimper slipping free before you have the mind to stop it from resonating in the air. Bucky’s gaze flicks up at the sound, concern knitting his eyebrows as his hand stills above your pelvis.

“Easy, Angel,” he soothes, trailing a hand up your thigh in a comforting caress. “I know what you're gonna say. But you took me so damn well. Gotta make sure you don’t wake up hating me in the morning.”

You scoff, rolling your eyes despite the fond smile wresting your lips. “Pretty sure I already hate you a little.”

Bucky's responding beam is radiant, his chest deflating in the assurance that you are okay—or at least, okay enough to still have the fire to put him in place—before tossing the used towel onto the floor where it lands with the other discarded fabrics of your clothes.

“Nah,” Bucky shakes his head, flumping beside you on the bed and gathering you in his arms. “You love me.”

You sigh in contentment the second Bucky's arms surround you, keeping you pressed to his side and pulling the covers over both of your satiated bodies. You fit against him like two conjoined puzzle pieces, like you were always destined to lie in each other's arms and slot perfectly into the apertures of each other's lives. Bucky’s flesh hand finds your right palm on his chest, bringing it to his lips to fleck tiny kisses across each knuckle, the matching golden bands wrapped around your ring fingers glinting against one another.

Something in the cerulean blue of his eyes shifts. By the next time you blink, Bucky is already claiming your lips in a kiss so compassionate you fear your heart might burst from the sheer ferocity of it. 

When he pulls back, Bucky is grinning, utterly smitten as he nuzzles his nose to the apple of your cheek.

“Happy anniversary, Angel,” Bucky murmurs, his voice heavy with selfless devotion and helpless exaltation. “I love you.”

A slow smile spreads across your lips, your nose wrinkling in happiness as you return, “Happy anniversary, my love.”

Your wedding bands catch the dim lighting of the bedside table lamp as Bucky laces his fingers through yours—sure and steady, a silent vow renewed without the necessity of spoken words. He exhales deeply, thoroughly at peace, and you let yourself sink into the warmth of his love, knowing with absolute certainty that there is nowhere else in the world you would rather be.

Nowhere but here, in the safety of your husband's arms, where your heart has always meant to stay.

[karmicmortal]

content warnings perv!jake, slightly younger reader, perving on your friends sister, noncon body pics, recording, somnophilia, male masturbation, facial cumshots, mentions of noncon touching

don’t like it? don’t read it!

notes this drabble was originally posted to istjisung. i am istjisung. if you see my drabbles posted on any account other than istjisung or karmicmortal, or the ao3 accounts of the same name, that is not me.

jake knew he should feel bad. he knew he should feel bad about creeping on one of his friends’ younger sister, but how could he feel bad when you prance around in nothing but an oversized tee or tiny shorts that leave nothing to the imagination? he should be glad that you feel comfortable enough around him to dress comfortably, but he can’t help but sneak glances when you aren’t looking.

however, instead of glances, it’s pictures.

he has perfected the art of taking sneaky pictures of you. when you’re lounging on the sofa, legs bare and inviting, or when you’re bent over in the garden playing with your family’s pet dog, shorts doing nothing to stop the bottoms of your ass cheeks from hanging out.

at first, he would cough to cover up the sound of the camera shutter, and you would turn around and look at him with wide, innocent eyes, asking if he felt sick. he does feel sick—sick in the head. because eventually, taking pictures of you in broad daylight got tiring. they were all the same; low quality, zoomed in photos, and none had your pretty face or tits in them, both of which jake adored and wished he could see more of.

one day, jake snuck into your bedroom during the night as you slept. truly, he was just going to make sure you were asleep before he jerked off in the bathroom, which was close enough to your room that you’d hear if he failed to stay quiet. upon walking in, though, he couldn’t help himself. you were asleep and had tossed and turned, kicking your duvet off of your body, and your pajamas—which looked more like a piece of lingerie—had bunched up at your waist to give jake a full view of your plump ass covered by your panties, and if he looked close enough, he could see the outline of your pussy lips eating the fabric between your legs.

he felt lucky that you were a deep sleeper, otherwise you would’ve woken up when he pulled his phone from his pants pocket to snap a few pictures. he hesitated for a few moments, but against his better judgement, he walks toward you. from this new angle, standing directly above you, jake can see everything. your naked legs, your cute panties, your tits threatening to spill out of your loose top, and your gorgeous face with your lips fixed in a pout.

it was wrong, dirty and disgusting, but he couldn’t stop himself.

with his phone still in his left hand, he presses the button to record a video. the only light in the room was from the moonlight through your window and the hallway light seeping through the crack in the door. he focuses the camera and gets the best angles, getting close ups of all of the areas he’s been aching to see. you startle him when you shift in your sleep, turning over to face your front towards him. luckily, you remained asleep. the movement had jostled you just enough for your breasts to fully spill out, and jake made sure to get a good view of them in his camera.

he fumbles with his pants, pushing them and his underwear down to his thighs. his cock springs out and he immediately takes it into his hand, pumping it slowly. his thick tip was leaking precum and he had the sudden urge to spread it across your lips—an urge he resisted. he couldn’t risk you waking up to his cockhead being on your mouth, as hot as it would be. but he still jerks himself off, making sure to get the right angle to catch when he spills his cum over your lower face and pillow, leaving you to wonder why they’re so sticky when you wake up in the morning.

and maybe, next time, he can touch you, too, if he was sure you’d stay asleep.