#my brain is working in slow motion | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

youvebeenlivingfictional · 1 month

Text

the pro

part ii: what we're willing to accept

Pairing: Art Donaldson x Reader

Rating: Explicit - 18+ only. minors, please get off my lawn.

Notes: My brain chose violence this morning. Not beta-read because when is it ever.

Length: 4.8K

Warnings: Slow burn; unhappily married reader; divorced Art Donaldson; infidelity; oral sex (female receiving); vaginal sex; unsafe sex

Summary: Every lesson becomes an exercise in self-control. You force yourself to try, really try, and not make silly mistakes for the sake of Art coming closer, grasping your arm or elbow, pressing close and redirecting your swing. You don’t know what you crave more these days: his praise or his touch.

He's the biggest men's tennis star since Andy Roddick.

That’s what your husband says, as if it’ll entice you. As if you know anything about tennis, about the pro that your husband says will be coming to the house to teach you to play.

It’ll be good for you. You need a hobby.

You don’t gripe or argue. You don’t tell him that five months into your marriage shouldn’t have you looking for a new hobby. You should still be in the honeymoon stage, spending all of your time with him, hanging off of his arm, off of his every word. But he works so much and he’s away so often—

I don’t want you to get bored.

It’s a sweet gesture. The maid handles the housework; you have a chef that handles most of the grocery shopping and cooking, unless you insist on making something yourself; you have a housekeeper that arranges for anything you need—dry cleaning, maintenance. And it’s no wonder that with all of his money, his power, he can just order a retired pro tennis player up to your house, like you’d order a pizza. There’s a tennis court in the back of the mansion, a few feet from the pool. You’ll get some new outfits, the best sneakers, the nicest rackets. You’ll finally have something to do to fill your days.

Art Donaldson.

You know his name before the lean, fair-skinned patrician man turns up at your front door. He trails you through the house, politely declines your offer of a beverage.

“You ever played tennis before?” He asks.

You haven’t. Before your husband arranged this for you, you hadn’t so much as given the sport more than a passing thought. You don’t have the heart or confidence to tell that to a man that’s made tennis his whole life, so you just give him a small, guilty smile and say no, you haven’t. He nods, waves you off, insists that it’s fine.

“We’ll start with the basics.”

Two months of lessons on the basics make your arms tired, and your hands sore. But where your swings are clumsy and your grip is weak at first, you can see improvement in the way that you move. Your steps are less clumsy when you go after a ball; you’re more aware of the service line and the base line; your forehand stroke from contact to your left shoulder is smoother; your rotation and follow-through on your backhand is coming along, but has a long way to go.

Art’s instruction is calm and steady. He explains technique as much as he demonstrates it. When you get something wrong, he doesn’t scold, just lightly corrects. When you do something well, his encouragement is constant and free-flowing. Every accurate move and motion is met with, “Nice,” or, “Perfect,” or, “That’s it.”

On the days when you don’t have a lesson with Art, you practice. You order a tennis ball machine to work on your forehand and backhand. You attempt (and fail) to learn how to slice on your own. You try anyway—you can only imagine the way his eyes might light up if you manage to surprise him.

You’ve tried to ignore the rising interest that you have in Art, but you can’t help the little…Crush that’s developed. He’s just so attentive, and kind. When you find yourself smiling these days, it’s often because of something that he said, or did. You can’t remember the last time your husband made you feel giddy this way. It was probably when you started dating—before you’d made the decision to marry for comfort, rather than love. Your husband is practical, rarely physically affectionate, more heavily involved in his job and social circles than with you.

But you’ll have to find a way to thank him. He’s given you a hobby, and a man that grins at you like you just painted the goddamn Mona Lisa when you serve your first ace.

“So, tell me about the Mark Rebellato Academy.”

Art smiles, dipping his head as he reaches for his coffee. It’s taken a few months, but you finally convince him to have something to drink with you after practice. Your chef is blessedly out shopping for ingredients for dinner, so you have the kitchen all to yourself. Art has watched you putter around, seeming surprised that you know where everything is. You can’t blame him; the kitchen is chef-grade, and you don’t cook much these days.

“Did your husband tell you that’s where I went?”

“No.”

“Then how do you know?”

You’re too embarrassed to admit that you’ve done some googling, and watched a couple of clips of him interviewing before and after his matches.

“I’ve just heard,” You fib. “Tell me about it?”

He leans back in his seat, eyes skating across your face as he seems to consider something.

“What do you wanna know?”

“Did you enjoy it? I mean—” It feels like a dumb question once it’s out, and you hurry to redirect, “With what you know now, if you had the choice, would you have learned how to play tennis somewhere else?”

He considers for a moment, trailing his finger over the side of his cup. Your gaze flits to his fingers, and your own flex around your mug handle. You’ve spent far too much time looking at and thinking about Art’s fingers—their length and quickness; the slight roughness of his calloused hands; the lingering tan line from where his wedding band used to sit.

“Yeah,” He admits, drawing your full attention back to his face. “I would. It was foundational, you know. I’ve been thinking of sending Lily there.”

“Lily?”

A bittersweet smile twists his lips. “My daughter.”

“Oh!” It catches you off-guard.

“Tashi, uh—” He clears his throat, “Lily’s mother, my ex-wife. She and I are thinking about schools.”

“I’m sure they’d be glad to have her. Does she play tennis?”

“Little bit. She didn’t start until last year, but she's a natural.” He clears his throat again, presses, “Are you and your husband planning on having kids?”

“Oh god no.” You blurt it out, and realize as he raises his brows that you’ve spoken too quickly. You lean back in your seat, stirring your coffee quickly to distract yourself from your growing embarrassment. “He actually has kids already. Two girls, seven and ten. They’re at boarding school and they stay with their mother when they're on vacation. I haven’t gotten to spend much time with them.”

“...He seems to be pretty busy.”

“He is.”

“So it’s just you in this big house?” He tips his head to the side, brows knitting with curiosity. “What do you do all day?”

“Play tennis.”

He grins, chuckling, and your stomach flips at the sound.

“It shows, you know,” He says.

“What do you mean?”

“I can tell you’re practicing without me. And,” He leans across the table, running his fingers lightly over the exposed skin of your bicep, “You’re getting stronger.”

You wonder if he can see or feel the goosebumps that break out across your skin at the gentle sweep, his gaze heavy on yours.

“I have a good teacher,” You murmur. Art’s lips twitch with a soft smile, his hand gently cupping your arm.

“Just good?” He plies.

“The best. A real pro.”

His smile widens, and the flash of his tongue sweeping across his lower lip makes your face go hot. You know that you’re caught when Art’s touch becomes firmer, pulling your arm toward him just a little.

The sound of approaching footsteps startles you, and you hurriedly tug your arm away. The sight of your husband makes your heart leap into your throat.

“There you are,” He smiles. “Art, how’s she doin’?”

“She’s killing it.”

You don’t dare look at him, but you can feel the weight of his attention lingering on you still. You just give your husband a smile, tipping your cheek up obligingly as he leans down to kiss it.

“Actually, Art,” Your husband straightens up, hands resting on your shoulders. “I’m glad I caught you. There’s a charity event for a local club this month. It’s for uh…What is it?” He squeezes your shoulders for answers, and you have to keep from rolling your eyes.

“It’s a charity tennis match to raise funds to fix up the local courts. They need resurfacing and they’re raising funding to keep the fees down.”

“We could use a sponsorship from the foundation,” Your husband adds.

“Honey,” You glance back, wary of insulting Art. But—

“I’ll do it,” Art agrees. “Send me the details.”

“Excellent,” Your husband grins. “Maybe we could coax you into a match or two.”

You don’t chastise him this time—not when you see something light up in Art.

“Maybe.”

You haven’t seen Art play before. You’ve specifically avoided it. You’ve known that when you saw it, you would be too intimidated to do a damn thing on the court with him. But now, you can’t stop watching him. You don’t even care that you probably look so out of place—where everyone else is watching the ball, you’re just watching him.

His movements are so neat, so precise. It’s like watching a dance. He’s running the poor guy on the other side of the net up and down the court. And the sounds that he’s making—god. Every little grunt and groan is weaving increasingly filthy thoughts in your mind. You already know that you’ll seek out the memory of those sounds, as you reach between your legs later. His shirt clings to his chest, showcasing the muscles that you’ve always suspected he has. Strands of hair plaster to his forehead as sweat drips over his cheekbones, down the bridge of his nose, over his jaw.

When he scores a match point and he looks toward the cheering crowd—when his eyes land on you instantly, without having to search—it’s like you’ve been hit by a bolt of lightning. You can’t think, or move. You barely have the focus to applaud, but you manage to raise your hands and clap.

Every lesson becomes an exercise in self-control. You force yourself to try, really try, and not make silly mistakes for the sake of Art coming closer, grasping your arm or elbow, pressing close and redirecting your swing. You don’t know what you crave more these days: his praise or his touch.

Coffee becomes a post-lesson ritual. He starts to stick closer and closer to you as he follows you into the house until he begins to rest his hand on your lower back, guiding you to your door. He keeps nearby when you’re making it, brushes droplets of sweat off of your forehead or neck. Every touch is electrifying; you have to make a concentrated effort to keep your hands steady, your face neutral as your heart pounds and your stomach floods with butterflies.

He pushes you harder on the court, and you force yourself to meet the level that he sets for you, even when you don’t feel confident in it. But you want to make him proud.

It spurs you to lunge a little too far.

The sharp stabbing pain in your left ankle makes you shriek, and you tumble to the ground, dropping the racket with a clatter. You hear the pounding of his feet, glance up just in time to see him clear the net before he’s on the ground at your side.

“What hurts?”

“My ankle,” You grit out, hissing softly as he helps you straighten your leg out. He smooths his hands over your calf, leaning over you and gently guiding your foot in a few different directions. You whimper as he starts to guide your foot to the left.

“Okay, okay,” He soothes, “Let’s get you inside.”

For as much as you damn the throbbing in your ankle, you thank it a little, too. You lean heavily against Art, making the slow, arduous journey back to the house with his arm wrapped tightly around your middle.

When your husband comes home, he finds you with on the couch with Art coming back in from the kitchen, an ice pack in your hand.

You’d hope for concern, but your husband frowns, glances at the swelling knob of your ankle, and simply asks: “What did you do?”

“She lost her balance.” Art sits down on the other end of the couch, soothing you as the chill of the ice pack makes you shift with discomfort.

“Are you going to be able to walk tomorrow?” Your husband presses. “We have dinner at the Fineman’s.”

“I'm still going, don't worry about that."

“...Tomorrow might be a bit soon,” Art warns.

“I’ll be okay. It’s just a sprain, right?” You tip your brows up, hoping, praying that he’ll agree for your sake. His fingers flex around the ice pack, jaw ticking as he clenches it. He doesn’t say a word as your husband sighs heavily, grumbles, “I hope so. Still, we should put a pause on the lessons until she’s fighting fit again.”

Art finally tears his eyes from yours, a tight smile on his lips.

“Of course.”

“How’s the ankle?”

It takes you a moment to scrounge up an answer. You can’t believe that he called. You knew that Art had gotten your number when you started taking lessons with him, but he’s never used it beyond texting to confirm a lesson time now and again.

You look down at the still-swollen flesh as it strains against the thin strap of your slingbacks.

“Fine,” You lie, “It’s um—” You glance over your shoulder, listening for your husband. “It’s not that bad.”

“Good enough to walk on?”

Hardly.

“Yes.” You think you’ve gotten away with it, but when you hear Art sigh and chastise, “You should rest,” You know that you haven’t.

“I have,” You insist, “All day.”

“Are you sure you’re alright?”

“Yes.”

“You can tell him no, you know.”

Your mouth works wordlessly, body going hot with indignation. You can’t think of a thing to say. You can’t tell him that he’s wrong, that your husband’s connections are the lifeblood of his business. You can’t tell him that if your husband’s business falls apart, you won't be able to afford those tennis lessons, and then how the hell are you supposed to see Art again?

You just yank your phone away from your ear and hang up.

I invited Art.

It shouldn’t be a surprise, but your husband’s statement makes you feel like you’ve swallowed your tongue. You haven’t seen or spoken to Art in nearly two weeks. Your doctor recommended putting off any physical activity, which your husband surely relayed to him. He was the one whose name was on Art’s checks, after all.

Your husband has always thrown a massive party to kick off the summer. Every year, 150 of your husband’s closest family, friends, and business associates flooded into the house. It shouldn’t be such a surprise that your husband invited Art after the performance he had given at the fundraiser—$25,000 from the foundation, and ticket sales went through the roof when it had been announced that the Art Donaldson would be making an appearance. Your husband owed Art a lot, and probably saw this as an opportunity for him to network, to take on more clients. He had been evangelizing Art’s training to any of your friends that would listen—how good you are on the court, how engaged and energetic you seem to be these days.

It’s one thing to know that you’ll have to put on a happy face for the crowd, but to know that Art will be among them makes your insides twist with nerves. You can’t stop thinking about the way that he had spoken to you when you were hurt; his calm, steadying demeanor as he’d gotten you inside; the careful coaxing and gentle touch that he’d used as he’d taken your shoe off and examined your ankle more closely.

You think about it now, as you strap on another pair of heels. Your ankle really is doing well, though you have a little lingering pain in shoes like these. You’ll likely be on your feet for the length of the party; it’s going to be a long night. You look over yourself in the mirror, self consciously tipping your ankle from side to side for anything that he may spot or catch out. But there’s nothing, you reassure yourself. You slide your hands over the skirt, plastering on a smile as your husband pokes his head into your dressing room.

“Almost ready in here?” He asks.

“All set!”

He doesn’t come over to you. On the crowded patio, you can feel him watching you—you’ve gotten so used to seeking out the sensation that you can’t ignore it now. The first true look at him is agony. He watches you from just a few feet away, a glass of champagne in hand as he speaks with your husband and the Finemans. He openly looks you over, eyes drifting over your body to the flash of ankle revealed by the slit in your dress. He tips his head to the side just a little, squinting before his eyes flit back up to your face, lips twitching with a small smile.

You want to hate how good it feels; you want to be angry with him for his smug knowing, his insistence of You can tell him no, you know. But it feels so goddamn good to have his attention again that you can’t bring yourself to be annoyed. You know that you’re staring—that you both are—and you force yourself to turn away and excuse yourself from the conversation you’re in. You go inside, murmuring your thanks for the waitstaff that pass you along the way.

The house isn’t nearly as busy as the patio, and you're able to slip into your darkened study unnoticed. You leave the lights off, certain that if you turn them on, people will be drawn in to bug you, like moths to a flame. The party’s lights and music filter in through the partially-closed blinds.

You lean against the desk, circling your ankle and wincing a little. You’ll hide for a few minutes, let it rest—

Your breath catches in your throat as the door opens. You expect your husband, ready to scold and usher you back to the guests.

You only have a second to get a look at Art before he shuts the door behind himself, plunging the room back into darkness. Your fingers tighten around the edge of the desk as you use it to ground yourself.

“...Do you need something?” You ask, voice wobbling with nerves.

“Wanted to come say hi.”

“Well. Hi.”

You hear him chuckle, his footsteps muted by the carpet.

“Thanks for the invite.”

“It wasn’t my idea.” It’s not polite to admit, but you want it to sting him, just a little. Maybe it does; in the dim of the room, you can’t see Art’s expression as he comes to a stop just a couple of feet from you.

“Do you want me to go?” He asks. You know what you should say, but you can’t bring yourself to say it.

“No,” You whisper. You feel the heat of him as he comes closer, his hands resting on the desk and caging you in. You bite your lip as gently brushes his nose against yours.

“He isn’t taking care of you.”

“My ankle is fine.”

“I’m not talking about your ankle.” He lifts a hand, smoothing it over your hip as your breath mingles. Art’s fingers drift from your hip to stroke over the apex of your dress’s slit. His fingers slip further down, and you nod as he palms your thigh. Before you can say or do a thing, Art sinks to his knees. He curls his hand around your left calf, lifting it. You shiver as his lips press a gentle kiss to your ankle. His hand and lips travel up, easing the fabric of your dress higher with each second. The first brush of his knuckles against your panty-covered clit makes you jolt. Your hands dig into the wood of the desk as his fingers hook between the fabric and your skin. You lift your hips without a word, allowing him to draw them down.

Art presses a kiss to your mound before he lowers his head, giving your lips a sweet, sucking kiss. You gasp softly as his tongue swipes across your clit. You look down despite the fact that you can’t see him well. You can just make out his blissful expression, his eyes closed as his laps broadly across your aching cunt. You lower your hand to his neat hair, winding your fingers through it, unable to help grasping it. His heady moan vibrates against you and you nearly cry out at the sensation. You manage to just catch it, the sound dying in your throat as Art buries his tongue inside you. He sweeps his thumb over your clit in rush, harried circles, panting against your heated flesh. You rock your hips down against his lips, tightening your grip on his hair as you guide him. He lets you do as you please, whining against your skin as your movements become less controlled.

“Art,” You warn, “I—Oh, oh god—”

He hums in encouragement, sucking your clit back between his lips and lashing it with his tongue. Your jaw drops open, your hand shoving Art even more tightly against your skin as you cum suddenly. A stunned, breathy moan slips from your lips as Art leans back, smearing his lips against the inside of your thigh.

You use your grasp on Art’s hair to draw him back up off of his knees, giving him a crushing kiss as he catches his balance. You swipe your tongue across his lips, whining against his lips as you taste yourself on him. He presses close, his hard cock straining against the fabric of his pants. You reach down, palming and squeezing his length as you trade slick, messy kisses. He steers you back onto the desk as you fumble to undo his belt, button, and zip.

“Condom?” He asks.

“Pill,” You reassure, shoving his pants down. You lap broadly across your palm, grasping Art’s length and guiding him closer. He brushes the tip of his cock against your still-throbbing clit, smiling as you whine. You’re going to ache tomorrow, but you’ve never been so happy to be sore.

“Art.”

“Sssh.”

“Please—” It’s hardly out of your mouth before he shoves his hips forward, seating himself fully with a single thrust. You bite down on your lip to quiet your moan, curling your arms around your shoulders. He rocks into you with firm, quick strokes, his mouth covering yours. You can hear things on the desk rattling with each thrust, kisses growing less controlled as he hoists your thigh up around his hip.

“Oh, god,” You breathe, “We have to be quick—He’ll come looking—”

“Not until you cum for me again,” He urges. “I need to feel it, sweetheart.”

“Art—”

“When’s the last time he did this? Hmm?” He presses, “When’s the last time he made you cum? When’s the last time he tasted you?”

“Never,” You admit with a shiver. It seems to renew Art’s passion, his thrusts and hold growing more intense. You squeeze your eyes shut, hands hooking tightly in the fabric of his jacket. He yanks the front of your dress down, bowing over you and drawing one of your nipples between his lips. You whimper as he toys with the bud, tugging it gently with his teeth before swiping across it. You arch into the slick heat, using your leg to tug him even closer as you chased the swelling curl of your orgasm.

“Just like that,” You urge, “Ffffuck—yes, yesyesyesyes—”

Your eyes squeeze shut as your hips buck down against his, pussy pulsing as he spills into you. Your heart pounds in your chest as the two of you slow and still. Art rests his forehead heavily against your neck, peppering gentle kisses across the exposed skin. You have to move—now. You don’t know if anyone heard you, but if someone did, you’re screwed. If no one did, your husband will probably be looking for you anyway, ready with a scold for neglecting your hostess duties.

“...I have to go,” You warn softly. It takes Art a moment to move, but he does, gently drawing himself back from your still-throbbing cunt. You hear the clanking of his belt buckle as he tucks himself away, and you reach down, righting your dress where it’s been pulled away. You take up your panties from where they’d been discarded on the floor, tugging them on before you straighten your skirt and hurry out of the room.

“Can I see you?”

It’s only been an hour since the last guest has left, and you are so, so fucking tired. You glance toward the bathroom door. You know that you locked it, and you’re certain that your husband can’t hear you over the shower running, but you can’t help but be paranoid.

“You just saw me,” You remind him.

“Tomorrow,” Art clarifies.

“Where?”

“I’ll send an address.”

You bite your lip, toying with your earring. Your pussy is still aching from the stretch of him, your ass sore from getting fucked on the desk.

“...You regret it?” He asks.

“No,” You don't give your answer a second thought.

“I’ll send an address. Whether or not you see me is up to you. Just…think about it. Okay?”

“Okay.”

You lower your phone, hanging it up and watching his contact information blink away. It’s only a moment before a text with an address lights up your phone. You don’t have to think about it. You already know what you’re going to do.

You know that you’re staring, but you can’t bring yourself to stop. Art has spent so much time in your home, so you feel entitled to look around a little bit. You eye the row of trophies on his mantle, photos of him playing when he was young. You come to a stop at a picture of him with a young girl, a racket in her hand and a medal around her neck.

“Is this Lily?” You ask.

“Yeah,” He nods. “First competition.”

“Already getting gold,” You smile. “The Mark Rebellato Academy isn’t ready for her.”

Art chuckles, nodding as he steps around you.

“You, uh…You want something to eat, or drink, or…?” He trails off, tucking his hands into his pockets as he takes a couple of steps back toward his kitchen. You turn to face him, taking him in more fully.

“Art?”

“Yeah?”

“Why am I here?”

He doesn’t answer for a few moments. You can see him weighing his options before he comes closer.

“I…I’ve been thinking about last night.”

Fear shoots through you, but you force yourself to stand tall. “Okay.”

“I could lie and tell you that it should be a one-time thing, but I can’t remember the last time I got through a day without thinking about you. And I think you’ve been thinking about me, too.” Art stops as the tip of his shoes brush against yours, and you let your eyes slip closed as he rests his forehead against yours.

“Tell me I’m wrong,” He pleads. “Tell me to fuck off right now and I will never say another non-tennis related thing to you again.”

When he fucks you, he curls close, chest pressing against yours as he catches your lips in a kiss. You sink back against his pillows, your head cradled by his broad palm as he rolls his hips achingly slowly. You don’t bother to hide your whines and moans, and you revel in his. Every grunt and whimper and groan that Art lets out lights you up.

And when you cum, you don't have to quiet yourself. His name tumbles out of your mouth, cushioned between expletives as your nails dig into his shoulders.

"What time is he home tonight?"

You don't want to think about it. You want to stay in this cozy little bubble, trailing your fingers over his muscled chest as he massages your nape and kisses your forehead.

But you know that you'll have to let the world back in sometime.

"I don't know," You admit. "Late."

"...Could stay."

"He'll be suspicious if I'm not home when he gets there."

Art sighs softly, running his hand down to rub between your shoulder blades.

"This isn't going to be easy, is it."

"What?"

"Letting you go every day."

"Every day?" You tease, pushing yourself up to get a better look at him. "Don't get greedy, Mr. Donaldson."

He smiles, raising his hand and cupping your cheek. "Is it greedy to know what I want?"

You shake your head a little, lowering your lips to brush against his.

"Not when I want it, too."

part ii: what we're willing to accept

Tag list: @missredherring ; @fantasticcopeaglepasta ; @massivecolorspygiant ; @blueeyesatnight ; @amneris21

@ew-erin ; @youngkenobilove ; @carbonated-beverage ; @moonlightburned ; @milf-trinity

@millllenniawrites ; @chattychell ; @thembosapphicclown ; @brandyllyn ; @wildmoonflower ;

@buckybarneshairpullingkink ; @mad-girl-without-a-box ; @winchestershiresauce ; @lorecraft ; @kmc1989

#Art Donaldson x Reader #Art Donaldson x You #Art Donaldson/Reader #Art Donaldson/You #Art Donaldson fic #Art Donaldson imagine #the pro

4K notes · View notes

dauntlessallure · 3 months

Text

𖤐 ⸝⸝ ˚ ┊ BANDS A MAKE HER DANCE ⋆

〝 ⠀ ݁⠀𝐟𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐠𝐨𝐣𝐨 , 𝐠𝐞𝐭𝐨 , 𝐧𝐚𝐧𝐚𝐦𝐢 , & 𝐭𝐨𝐣𝐢 ❜ ⠀݁

【 SYNOPSIS 】— giving the jjk!men a show.

【 CONTENTS 】— stripper!reader , implied smut , fem-bodied reader , dryhumping , degradation, groping , grinding , dirty talk , consensual non consent ( for context reasons lol ) , semi established relationship + sugar daddy ( w/ nanami ) , reader is a bit of a s l u t aren’t we all though ? , kissing , daddy kink ( in toji & nanami’s ) , spanking , MDNI + any other missing tags .ᐟ

【 PAIRING 】— jjk!men x stripper!reader

【 WORD COUNT 】— 1k

⠀ ̽ ⠀ ᝰ✍︎ ﹐⠀/⠀ ❝ ⠀ 𝔄𝗗𝗠𝗜𝗡𝗜𝗦𝗧𝗥𝗔𝗧𝗜𝗢𝗡 𝔑𝗢𝗧𝗘 . . .

im STILL working on boxer!toji but for now , imma let y’all EAT. :) i had this plot bunny in my brain for a while so i went ahead and finished it up. reblogs are appreciated <3. comment to join the tag list. this work is not yet proof read.

— ❥ 𝐆𝐎𝐉𝐎 𝐒𝐀𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐔

gojo is well . . gojo , if the man has an excuse to go to the local stripclub ? best believe that man is going to be there in a heartbeat. he just wants to see if you’re working tonight, satoru was your favorite client after all. he was never stingy with his money but better yet , there was something about him that just made you want to bend the rules of your own contract just a little. maybe it was all the pretty little names he’d call you everytime you’d give him a dance, or maybe it’s the way your slowly grinding your hips down onto his growing erection. fuck — you were driving him crazy. “ shiiiiiit princess , you’re making me hard and you’ve just bearly started. “ gojo wanted to just grab you & pin you to the wall of the private room you two were in. “ mmhm , i can feel it. but remember ~ “ you’d begin to move your hips in slow - rhythmic circles against his lap, the feeling of the restricted fabric pressing itself up into your barely clothed cunt was really testing your own patience. “ no touching satoru, you’ll have to pay extra for that. “ satoru whined softly, lightly pressing his hips up against your ass as he reached for his wallet. “ fuck all that , you can drain my bank account fucking dry for all i care. “ the white haired man basically threw all the cash in his wallet which was a lot to the small table to his left before digging his fingertips into the flesh of your hips , pulling you back onto his lap in one swift motion making your head spin. “ think you can handle all of me baby ? hm ? tell me. “ satoru purred against the skin of your neck. you were definitely in for it tonight.

— ❥ 𝐆𝐄𝐓𝐎 𝐒𝐔𝐆𝐔𝐑𝐔

today was suguru’s birthday, and what better way to celebrate than being pulled to a strip club by his closest friends. geto had never been , though he’s heard all about it from gojo’s loud mouth. all of the other dancers were beautiful , geto wasn’t sure how much longer he could keep his composer until his eyes landed on you. you were relatively new to being an exotic dancer but you’d have no problem grabbing almost anyone’s attention when they stumbled into your sight. “ don’t be a wuss man , go ask her for a dance. “ gojo pushed on suguru’s shoulder which made geto shoot satoru a glare. but before geto could do anything , you’d be the one who makes a move first. grabbing onto his hand, geto’s gaze shoots down at you almost in shock. “ sorry to interrupt you , but a special someone has told me it’s your birthday. looks like you’ll be getting a private dance from me tonight. “ suguru’s expression was priceless. he looked back at gojo , gojo shrugged. “ wasn’t me man. “ that’s when shoko popped her head out from behind satoru. “ oh ! yeah , have fun geto. “ shoko did this ??!! suguru expected this type of thing from satoru but from shoko ?! , geto blinked at shoko before being pulled away by you. five minutes into the private session and suguru was hard as a rock which you couldn’t help but to chuckle at. he was attractive , long hair that you just wanted to sink your fingers into. “ someone’s getting excited. “ you chuckle out as you placed both hands onto his thighs, your tits on full display for geto to stare at. geto felt like he was gonna lose it, he couldn’t possibly take it. “ f— . . fuck me. “ was the only thing suguru could mutter out as he continued to watch you dance.

— ❥ 𝐍𝐀𝐍𝐀𝐌𝐈 𝐊𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐎

unlike both suguru and the headache that is gojo , nanami doesn’t need stripclubs. even though yours and nanami’s sensual relationship did spark from a local gentlemen’s club , you’ve left that lifestyle behind long ago. you’ve established a very strong connection with nanami since then, even making more money now working for nanami privately. he’s vowed to keep you happy by spoiling you beyond oblivion. you were so grateful for kento , grateful enough to be standing in front of him wearing the brand new lingerie set he had custom made just for you. nanami kept a hard gaze on your figure as he raised his finger up and twirling it in a circular motion, signaling for you to spin for him. you slowly spun around allowing kento to get a good look, the color of the lingerie made your complexion pop while the lacy material hugged the curves of both your ass and your tits to perfection. nanami’s never seen a sight so beautiful. “ do you like it ? “ he questioned , patting his thigh. you’d nod quickly, getting a good look at yourself in the full body mirror to your left. “ i love it , thank you daddy. “ kento smiled. “ c’mere , i wanna see my perfect baby up close. “ you waltzed your way over to nanami , turning around to place yourself onto nanami’s lap , grinding yourself on his thighs. he immediately groaned followed by a small chuckle, placing a few chaste kisses along your shoulder while his large hands began to rub over the skin of your tummy “ hm , daddy thinks you look gorgeous but i’d rather see you uncovered for now. is that okay ? “ you nodded. RIIIIIIP. he’s done tore the fabric off of your body. “ nanami ! “ , “ don’t worry , i’ll get you more. “

— ❥ 𝐓𝐎𝐉𝐈 𝐅𝐔𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐆𝐔𝐑𝐎

let’s be honest , this man spends every pretty penny he’s got at the stripclub. it’s the toji thing to do. especially spending everything he’s got just to get a private dance from you. toji quickly became one of your regular clients as he pretty much came in weekly to see you. over the course of a couple of months, you & toji began to take your private sessions up to the next level. you two just couldn’t get enough of each other, you dancing around and shaking your ass for him just wasn’t enough. toji now has you on his lap , his tongue lodging itself into your warm mouth. you were squirming under his touch , your now soaked underwear was making a wet spot on his pants while you ground on him. toji pulled back from the kiss only to laugh at how wet you’ve gotten, only making him harder. “ look at cha , makin’ a mess on me & i haven’t even got ya naked yet. “ his voice alone could make you gush all over him even more, toji let his hand smack across the plush of your ass. “ let me guess , you want more huh ? i should’ve known you were a dirty fuckin’ slut. “ you gasped as toji wrapped his arms around the small of your waist and pressed your weight down onto his throbbing length through his pants, “ t-toji ! “ a small whimper leaving your lips as more of your arousal seeped through the rough fabric. “ aht , aht , that’s not my name. . tell me whatcha want baby. “ how humiliating, but you loved everything about it. “ d—daddy .ᐟ i wanna feel you inside. “ toji chuckled before releasing his grip from around your waist, tapping your thigh as a sign for you to stand up. “ atta girl , now the panties . . lose em. “

ׂ⠀〝⠀⠀.. ⠀ ©dauntlessallure 24’ — please do not steal , publish , or post my work elsewhere or credit as your own .ᐟ

2K notes · View notes

chilschuck · 2 months

Text

— HEADCANONS: how they’d kiss you.

꒰ charas: ꒱ LAIOS & CHILCHUCK.

꒰ wc: ꒱ 300

꒰ rating: ꒱ sfw like always!

✦ hi there!! this is my first post on this acc, and it’s just smth small i put together while reading the manga. if you’d like more characters, feel free to rq them in my askbox! i wanted to write something for laios for my beloved jackie, and i wanted to throw in some chil as well! sorry if it’s a bit ooc… just wanted to have some fun lol. hope you enjoy!

— LAIOS: sweet but inexperienced.

Laios kisses like he’s unsure of himself. The first time you kiss him, leaning up to press a soft peck to his lips, his heart just about stops. He’s not used to affection; kisses with him at first will be chaste and rushed. Expect his lips to be a little chapped and his motions to be a little rough, but ease him into it and he’s a fast learner. Soon enough he’ll be the one leading, sweeping you off your feet. (And probably literally, with how tall this man is.) Imagine a lot of shy touches when your lips are on one another’s, and think about just how warm his embrace is. Laios will more than likely just pull you into his arms when he can and snatch a quick kiss, before continuing on with what he was doing before. When it’s just the two of you, he seeks your attention, speckling smooches all over your cheeks until you finally grab him by his and pull him in.

— EXTRA: kiss him while he’s rambling and you might just make his brain stop working. (but be sure to assure him it’s because you like when he talks!!!)

— CHILCHUCK: slow and steady.

Since he’s more experienced, kisses with him will be addicting. It probably takes a while to encourage him to give you that bit of affection, (as he doesn’t just go and do this with anyone!) But once you have him in your clutches, he’ll make sure you won’t want to part. He gives and he takes, his hands more than likely digging into your hips as he tilts his head just that right way to get the kiss deeper. Encourage him by winding your fingers through his hair and you might just hear him groan. You definitely have to wait until you’re away from everyone before getting to the more serious kisses, (you know how he is) and I imagine he may even nip at your bottom lip when he wants to lick into your mouth. Chilchuck’s cheeks definitely still get red with every kiss. (At least in the beginning, lol. I feel like he’s easily flustered a bit.)

— EXTRA: sweet talk this man. my god, tell him how skilled he is and how much you enjoy watching him work and just watch how he reacts. and maybe when no one’s looking he’ll place a quick kiss to your shoulder.

#⟡ lilia writes! 🌿#dividers by cafekitsune #this is so self-indulgent #hope it’s okay!!!#dungeon meshi x reader #delicious in dungeon x reader #dunmeshi x reader #laios x reader #laios touden x reader #chilchuck x reader #chilchuck tims x reader

1K notes · View notes

starlostseungmin · 1 month

Text

husband!seungmin

✰ notes: my brain is not working properly and idk if i could write any lengthy fics as of the moment but here’s husband seungmin because i’m bored and i love our puppy so much. not proofread. DO NOT FORGET TO REBLOG, COMMENT AND LEAVE TAGS! thank you <33

ꔛ

Husband Seungmin who cried when he saw you walking down the aisle with a big smile on his face thinking that he’s the luckiest man on earth to marry you. He couldn’t wait for the priest to finally announce you as husband and wife then kisses you in front of your friends and family.

Husband Seungmin whose love language is act of service and words of affirmation with a little bit of gift-giving.

Husband Seungmin who is still shy about engaging in physical touch. But when he does, he gets really clingy and refuses to let you go. You never complain. He also loves looking at you dreamingly while you sleepーwhispering how much he loves you and kisses your forehead before going to sleep, hugging you tightly.

Husband Seungmin who cooks every morning before going to workーsometimes at nightーand holds your hand while brewing coffee as he steals kisses whenever you aren’t looking.

Husband Seungmin who would take the day off from work just to stay home and take care of you when you’re sick. He won’t allow you to move and insist that he’ll do everything you ask for.

Husband Seungmin who gets a bit possessive when someone who seems interested in you makes a conversation so he’d kiss your lips out of the blue and say, “We’re married.” then show off your wedding rings.

Husband Seungmin who doesn’t pressure you to have kids with him since he respects whatever decision you make. It doesn’t matter anyway, as long as the two of you are together, that’s enough for him.

Husband Seungmin who is still feeling nervous when he asks you out on a date. It would always feel like the first timeーhis heart racing, cheeks red as a tomato, the giddiness and sparks, everything goes in slow-motion. He would take you to your favorite places and have the best time.

Husband Seungmin who loves tea time and is literally serving you hot gossip from workーlaughing at how everyone was so dumb and problematic in the industry.

Husband Seungmin who used to prefer texts over calls but now he tends to call you often because he misses you. He would also wait for you to hang up first.

Husband Seungmin who would hug you tightly while kissing the crown of your head and whisper words that might comfort you when you’re breaking down and vulnerable in front of him. He would refuse to leave until you feel better.

Husband Seungmin who makes weird noises and funny faces just to make you laugh.

Husband Seungmin who acts like a puppy when he wants to be babied and asks for a kiss.

Husband Seungmin who treats you like royalty.

Husband Seungmin who gets over the moon when you surprise him with lots of (useful) Sanrio-related gifts. Mostly Pochacco and Pompompurin with a little bit of Cinnamon Roll.

Husband Seungmin who loves to take A LOT of pictures of you with his phone or camera. You’d complain (playfully) about his storage getting full but he doesn’t mind because you are his muse.

Husband Seungmin who brings you flowers on random days because they remind him of you.

Husband Seungmin who kisses your lips intimately because he wants to. It could happen multiple times a day which could lead to something moreーmost of the time.

Husband Seungmin who would walk away after an argument and come back hours later to apologize.

Husband Seungmin who doesn’t want you to see him cry but gives in when you hug him.

Husband Seungmin who gets brutally honest, cries over silly things, and does his little twerk when drunk but still cute as hell.

Husband Seungmin who always scores 98-100 on coin karaoke and gets cocky. He knows you love listening to him when he sings and gladly does the favor when you ask him to—wherever, whenever.

Husband Seungmin who is always good at everything.

Husband Seungmin who doesn’t say “I love you,” most of the time but expresses it in different ways or says it with the things he feels about you.

Husband Seungmin whose smile is the most precious in the world. You promised not to take it away and never make him cry.

Husband Seungmin who loves you so much, makes you happy, never fails to make your heart beat, makes you feel loved and accepts you no matter what your flaws are.

✰ taglist: @notastraykid , @ameliesaysshoo , @l3visbby , @reignessance , @lix-ables , @skzfelixlove , @rachabreathing , @hyunverse , @minluvly , @sleepyleeji , @starseungs , @midsoulz , @oddracha , @armystay89

©️ 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐋𝐎𝐒𝐓𝐒𝐄𝐔𝐍𝐆𝐌𝐈𝐍 , 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟒.

1K notes · View notes

fourfuckinghorsemen · 1 year

Note

Sick and cold here too and i have semester final exam tomorrow

Good luck anon that really sucks

#I dont think i could pass an exam like this #My brain isnt working properly #It feels like its in a blender bit the blender is in slow motion #Best of luck with your exam #Ask #Tua rp #Tua rp blog #Sick Five

1 note · View note

wongyuuu · 5 months

Text

slow motion | ljh

pairing: jihoon x f!reader genre: smut, fluff, friends to lovers word count: 3.4k summary: when you offer to cut jihoon's hair, he has a hard time holding himself back from touching you warnings: minors do not interact, swearing, petnames, fingering, multiple orgasm, penetrative sex a/n: against all odds, my current dream is to cut jihoon's hair

Jihoon did his best to control himself, to keep his breathing even despite his heart racing inside his chest. He knew he shouldn't be behaving that way, he was sure it was wrong on so many levels that he didn't even want to think about it. But he couldn't just get his mind to stop for even a second.

All he could focus on was the feeling of your fingers in his hair, your breath gently touching the back of his neck. Keeping his hands to himself was proving to be a more difficult task than expected.

He should have known when he accepted your offer to cut his hair that he would be up to his neck in trouble. Jihoon was sure he shouldn't have accepted it, but when you offered he simply found himself saying yes, like he was agreeing to a movie or a pizza.

Maybe he shouldn't even have a crush on his best friend in the first place. Maybe that was a point to think about. But it was simply stronger than him. Even though Jihoon told his brain that it was wrong, that he shouldn't feel that way, it was simply impossible to ignore what he felt.

And he had tried, with all his might. He swore he did.

That's why he had pulled away from you a little. The old “out of sight, out of mind��. And for a while, you let the whole situation just move along how he wanted. You knew that if Jihoon walked away without saying anything it was because he had problems that he still didn't know how to deal with very well. And you knew him well enough to know when he needed time to himself.

But enough was enough and a month of absolute silence was all you were willing to give him. Thirty days was more than enough for him to understand what was happening. Thirty days was much longer than you wanted to be away from him.

So, without a heads up, to Jihoon or his friends, you simply showed up at his door.

You laughed at his sleepy face, his hair scattered everywhere and how he seemed completely lost while looking at you.

"Hi!" you said excitedly, walking through the door without being invited in.

Jihoon was a very private guy, who liked having control over the situations he got himself into, but in that moment, he had no idea what was going on.

It wasn't like you to show up unannounced.

"Is everything okay?" he asked, rubbing his eyes, doing his best to shake off sleep.

You sat on the couch and looked around, dangling your feet. Jihoon's place was organized and very few things were out of place, just enough to show signs that someone lived there.

You had missed it there. As strange as it may seem, Jihoon's apartment was the place where you felt most comfortable, even more than in your own apartment. Maybe the fact that you shared an apartment with someone you didn't like very much had a big influence in how you felt. Or maybe it was just because of him.

"I should ask that, you were the one who disappeared," you said smiling.

That was a smile Jihoon knew well, one that said you were insecure, and weren't sure how to proceed. He hated that he was responsible for this.

Jihoon liked to be the person you felt most comfortable with, the one you ran to when you had problems. He didn’t want to be the one you felt like walking on eggshells around.

“I’m sorry,” he said, wishing you could feel his sincerity.

"Have you been out of the apartment?" you asked, knowing the answer would be no.

"Define out" he narrowed his eyes and sat on the other end of the couch. It didn't go unnoticed by you that he sat as far away as possible "I went to the gym"

It was your turn to narrow your eyes, focusing solely on him, analyzing every part of his face and slowly moving down to his shoulders. You weren’t sure that was how it worked at the gym, but you could have sworn his shoulders had gotten wider, his arms bigger too.

A gym rat you had called him once. At the time Jihoon had laughed, but you knew that the expression applied very well to him. If it were up to him all he would do was go to the gym and work

"Did you see people, interact with them?"

"There were people in the gym"

You rolled your eyes. That conversation wasn't going anywhere, you knew that. Jihoon wasn't the type of person to leave the house unless he had a good excuse and usually, his excuse came in the form of a text message from you.

You were the only person, perhaps followed by Soonyoung, who was able to get Jihoon out of the house to do anything other than go to the gym and maybe a few trips to the convenience store. It was a constant joke that he didn't even know what the streets around his building were like. A real joke, because he really didn't know.

Jihoon would only leave the house if he really needed to.

"You didn't even get a haircut"

You pointed to the mess on top of his head. Jihoon laughed and tried, without much success, to make his appearance a little more presentable.

The last time you saw each other, Jihoon's hair was a little longer than he usually wore it. And you liked it back then. Every time he showed up in front of you you felt your heart skip a beat and your breathing hitch. But it had grown too much, was blunt, and spread in all directions.

"I didn’t have time"

You laughed, nodding. You knew it was a lie, he was just too lazy, but you were willing to let it go.

"Want me to cut it for you?" you offered.

At that point, you would do anything to be close to Jihoon, even if it was for a short period of time and the excuse was terrible.

During the month you spent away from him, you felt as if an integral part of your life had simply disappeared. Jihoon was, you realized, a big part of your life. The truth was that you could live without him, yes. You could and you knew it, you just didn't want to.

Whenever you had the choice to be by his side or be far away, the choice would always be to stay with him.

Yes, he was, without a doubt, your best friend, but he was also much more. You actually wanted him to be more, but you weren’t sure how you could tell him that. You were afraid of opening up and losing what you had. So you decided that a bit little of him was better than nothing at all.

"Do you really think this is a good idea?"

You laughed and scooted closer to him, sitting right next to him, your thigh next to his. Jihoon swallowed hard, it wasn't what he expected, but he didn't have the strength to run away, not again.

"Soonyoung didn’t complaining"

"Soonyoung? You guys been talking?"

That fucking bastard, Jihoon mentally cursed his friend. Soonyoung had only mentioned you once and when Jihoon didn't pay much attention he didn't say anything else. Even if he hadn't said anything, even if he hadn't given any signs, he hoped his friend would still keep him informed about you and what you were up to. Apparently, he would have to "talk" to Soonyoung later.

"Yes, he came by last week. He got drunk after I cut his hair, I tried calling you, but when you didn't answer he ended up staying over"

You analyzed Jihoon's expressions, waiting for a change, and smiled discreetly when you saw what you wanted. He didn’t like what he was hearing.

Jihoon wanted to hit himself. He remembered the call, but it had been made from Soonyoung's phone, so he purposely ignored it. His friend had a habit of calling him just to test his patience, so sometimes Jihoon chose to simply ignore him.

He was sure he would answer all of his friend's calls and regret most of them.

"If you promise you won't make matters worse," he said running his fingers through his hair "you can cut it"

And that's how he ended up in that situation, trying to control himself to keep his hands away from you

Jihoon cursed under his breath when you turned around, standing in front of him. He was sitting on the edge of his bathtub. He swore he almost fainted when you positioned yourself in between his legs

You were too close, your scent invading every single one of his senses. Before he could even realize what he was doing, he was running the tip of his fingers on the back of your exposed knees.

His faint touch was enough to make your legs tremble. You put your hand on his shoulder, whether it was to stop him or steady yourself was unknown. However, it wasn't enough to detain him, if anything it only pushed him to run his fingers up your thigh.

You did your best to ignore him and just kept on cutting his hair. If there was one thing you always loved about Jihoon was his hair, how he always let you play with it, how he would often fall asleep while you did so.

"I'm almost done," you told him.

Jihoon hummed, now both of his hands on your legs. He couldn't help but wonder if your skin was so hot because of him or because it was the middle of summer.

Finally, you put the scissors over the sink. You tilted Jihoon's head back so he would look at you. You didn't expect to see his eyes so cloudy, almost as if he was sort of lost in his own mind, maybe the mind of their own that his hands created.

"Okay" was all he offered.

You ran your hands over his hair one more time, making sure that it looked fine and even on both sides. You smiled, pleased with yourself. It had been a lie that you cut Soonyoung's hair. The last time you cut someone's hair was in the previous year when you cut Jihoon's for the second time because he, again, was too lazy to go to the barber and get it cut by a professional. You were about to move away from him so he could look at himself in the mirror when Jihoon held onto you, not letting you get away from him.

He ran his hands up and down your tights, pulling you closer to him, his forehead resting on your stomach.

"Don't do this" you begged him when you felt him push your shirt up, placing a kiss on your exposed skin "If you don't mean it, please don't do this"

"What if I do?" he asked, voice barely a whisper "What if I have meant it for a very long time?"

You always took pride in the fact that you knew how to read Jihoon when others couldn't tell the difference in his actions. He was known for his cold exterior but you knew just how warm and loving he could be. You had been on the receiving end of his love and affection so many times. But looking at him in that moment you didn't know if what you were seeing in his eyes was the truth or if it was what you wanted to see.

"This could ruin everything," you said.

He knew that. Oh, just how well he knew that. But in that moment he decided to throw all caution through the window and do the one thing he had been wanting for the past ten years.

"Yeah, it could"

Jihoon rose to his feet, his hands that previously were around your waist cradled your face. He looked at you once again, to make sure that he wasn't imagining it, that you wanted it too.

You couldn't take your eyes away from his plump lips, from the way he wet them with the tip of his tongue. You held the shirt around his waist, steading yourself when he finally placed his lips on yours.

His touch was tentative at first, still unsure, but when you sighed into the kiss, hand going to his neck, he deepened the kiss, urging your lips open.

You wrapped your arm around his shoulder, pulling him as close to you as you possibly could.

You had been kissed before, many times, by many different people, and not once had it felt like that. There was this magnetic pull towards Jihoon, which had always been there, but neither of you had ever acted on it. Everything else seemed to disappear while he was around. It was like tunnel vision and he was all that you could see and, in that moment, feel. You were sure that if a meteor suddenly fell in the next room neither of you would care, too lost into each other to even notice.

Jihoon kissed you like he was sharing his deepest secrets, one that was only for you to know. His touch was tender, enough to leave you like a fool, melting under him, but also passionate enough to make you dig your nails into his shoulder.

He pulled away from you, just enough to look at you. He watched as you slowly opened your eyes, lips slightly red.

"Yeah, this changes everything," he said.

Jihoon kissed you again, taking slow steps back, one of his arms outstretched to make sure that you wouldn't hit your back on anything, while he guided you to his room.

That night was going to change everything and he could only hope that it was for the better, that he finally would be one you looked to.

You felt the back of your knees hit the side of his bed, his perfume taking over you.

You kissed his jaw, then his neck, your fingers pushing his shirt up. Jihoon helped you pull his shirt over his head. Lightly, you ran your nails over his skin. You smiled when you saw the goosebumps on his skin.

"There's no going back now," you said to him "If we do this..."

Jihoon didn't want to hear it. All doubts and worries could be processed later. The only thing he cared about was that you were in his arms, the one you place he wanted to have in you for years. He wasn't about to let go, not when he was sure that you were just as into it as he was.

He looked at you while unbuttoning your shorts. His eyes were so intense that you almost wanted to look away. It was almost too much. But it was also not nearly enough, you realized. You wanted Jihoon all over, all at once.

You felt your cheeks heat up when he slid his hand into your shorts, past your panties. His fingers touched you as if they knew you, like he had done the same things many times before.

A soft moan left your lips when you felt his middle finger on your clit, rubbing it in small, slow, circles. You held onto him, gripping his arms to steady yourself.

Slowly Jihoon pulled away from you, pushing you down on the bed while you did your best to get rid of your shorts and underwear, suddenly hating how tight it was on your sweaty skin.

"I've been waiting for this for a long time, darling," he said, biting your neck, his hands finding their way back into your folds "Take this off"

You pulled your shirt over your head and laughed when Jihoon made a sound on the back of his throat. You looked down at your bra, suddenly remembering that it was matching your discarded panties.

"You were not the only one waiting for this," you said, pulling him to you again.

His fingers worked your clit harder, faster, more demanding than before. The thought of having you always wearing matching underwear, just in case he took his head out of his ass long enough, was enough to drive him crazy. He wanted it all and it wanted fast.

Jihoon watched as you closed your eyes, back arching from the bed.

"I think I can make you cum like this" he said and you knew wore that cocky that always made your head spin "Look at me"

You opened your eyes as he dipped his finger into you, curling it.

"Jihoon" you moaned when you felt the pressure of climax building up.

Your flushed cheeks, fresh out of an orgasm, was his favorite sight, Jihoon decided.

He reached for his bedside table, pulling out a condom out of the first drawer. You watched in complete trance as he finally pushed his boxers out, your mouth suddenly watering at the thought of having him fill you.

"You're too slow," you complained, pushing yourself up on your elbows, adjusting one of his pillows under your head.

He laughed, climbing back on the bed, on top of you.

"I'm enjoying the moment"

"You know, you could enjoy it a lot more if you just fucked me"

Jihoon laughed again, pushing your legs back against your stomach and over his shoulders.

He dragged his cock over your slit a few times, his tip getting caught on your sensitive clit every single time.

"Don't tease me"

Slowly he sank into you. Every tiny piece of him filled you, stretching you up. His name left your mouth as you got used to him.

"I'm ruined, baby" he caressed your tigh "Fucking ruined"

He took his time, each of his strokes languid. He pulled all the way out before pushing himself in again. He pressed your legs down, his weight over you in the most delicious way.

His eyes rolled back as you walls kept sucking him in, a groan escaped his mouth.

Jihoon's pace was torturously slow so when he applied the slightest bit of pressure on your clit you came apart under him. His name and incoherent sounds all you could manage. It didn't take long for him to follow.

He stayed still for a few seconds, both of you trying to catch your breaths. You let your legs fall to the sides, the position awkward, but Jihoon didn't move, he only leaned forward and pressed his lips to your in a tender kiss.

"You're staying, right?" he asked.

You had never seen him look like that before, unsure.

You ran your hand over his hair, a small smile tugging at the corner of your lips.

"I'm not going anywhere"

Jihoon was the first one to wake up. Not once in his life did he wake up feeling like that, happy. He wished that he could freeze that moment, or at least imprint it on his mind. You looked beautiful like that, just sleeping with your hair a mess. You looked peaceful. The frown you had the night before when you first walked inside his apartment completely gone.

He wasn't sure how the dynamics would be with the two of you but didn't care. You had stayed the night with him and he was sure that it meant something. Jihoon knew that you wouldn't have allowed him to touch you if you weren't certain of it. Of course both of you were worried about how your friendship would move on from that and he could only hope that you could become more.

So he held you tighter against his body, no room between the two of you. Jihoon felt your body tense for a second as you stretched your arms and legs. When you turned around in his arms, Jihoon closed his eyes, pretending to still be asleep. He did his best to keep his smile at bay when he felt your fingers running across his face, tracing his eyebrows, nose, cheeks and lingered on his lips.

As he opened his eyes, the only words that Jihoon could think of were I love you. You were the only person he ever thought of saying those words to, the only person he ever said them to. When he thought about his life you were always there by his side, not just as his best friend but also as the woman he loved.

That moment, Jihoon decided, was one that he was going to hold for dear life.

"I have to pee" you said when you felt his arms tighten around you.

"Just a little longer like this" he said "A few more minutes"

"Okay" you whispered, pressing a kiss to his jaw before settling into his arms, falling asleep once again.

taglist: @wonwooz1, @mirtaspace, @feat-sun, @belladaises, @immabecreepin, @miriamxsworld, @aaniag, @k-drama-adict, @sofix-hc7, @moonlightgrleric, @mixling-blog, @haowonbins, @valgracia, @slut4donghyuck, @manutuankim, @shuabby1994

if you enjoyed reading, please reblog or leave a comment, it really does mean the world to me and i would love to know your thoughts. thank you! 💕

if you want to be tagged in my next fics, please fill out this form

1K notes · View notes

fettuccin-e · 2 years

Text

Filthy Whispers

I absolutely hc that Steve motherfucking Harrington has a filthy mouth and doesn't even realize it,,, like he just gets so pussydrunk that his brain-to-mouth filter is just nonexistent,, so here we go besties (Tags: Steve Harrington x Reader, unprotected piv, size kink, hints of breeding kink and exhibitionism kink, fem!reader)

With his pretty doe eyes and soft hair and penchant for taking hapless kids under his wing, it’s easy to assume that Steve Harrington is as vanilla as they come. It’s easy to think that under the polo shirts and parental rolls of his eyes that Steve probably just likes it slow and steady, missionary and almost marital.

Anyone who assumes that is fucking stupid.

Steve likes missionary, of course, but it isn’t slow and soft, it isn’t ‘making love.’

No, Steve likes missionary because it means that he can fucking fold you in half, pressing your thighs against your tits while he hooks your calves over his shoulders. He likes being able to lick into your sticky mouth, your pretty lips gaping open over punched out moans while he fucks his fat cock into your dripping pussy.

And despite his stuffy upbringing, his polos and mother-hen tendencies, Steve Harrington has the filthiest mouth you’ve ever heard.

“Goddamn, baby, you hear that? Hear how this sweet pussy is sucking me in? Jesus, sweetheart, been thinking about you all day. Wanted to fuck you over the counter at work, just pull your panties to the side and slide my cock in,” he murmurs into your mouth. He doesn’t wait for any responses to his questions, he just keeps talking and talking while your eyes roll into the back of your head.

“You’d take me in, wouldn’t you baby? Take me all the way inside your little cunt? People would walk into the store, just wanting a movie, right baby? But they’d get a whole different show, sweetheart. Cause I wouldn’t stop; I’d keep fucking you even as people walked in, and I bet you’d scream sweetheart, God. You’re so fucking desperate to be filled up, you’d let me fuck you in front of strangers, anything to get to this cock, right baby?”

You nod deliriously, barely registering Steve’s words he stretches you out so good, reaching so deep inside. Your chest is heaving with the effort it takes to get air into your lungs, only for the air to get knocked out again by each one of Steve’s brutal thrusts.

“Jesus, you’re fucking dripping, sweetheart. Just gushing over this cock, shit, you’re so fucking hot. Need this pussy all the time, y’feel so good wrapped around me. Wanna- wanna be buried deep in this cunt, all the time baby. Gonna fuck you all the time, sweetheart, just keep you stuffed full with my cum, dripping out just to fuck it back in. Gotta get you off that birth control baby, so I can get you pregnant, fuck-”

Steve cuts himself off with a deep groan, almost surprised at his own words. You both knew you wanted kids, maybe in a few years, when you moved out of your shitty apartment and bought a house, maybe got a dog. But the thought of you, all swollen and heavy with your kid, fuck, it’s got Steve lightheaded.

You sob as Steve somehow starts to shove himself in harder, tears streaming from your eyes as you claw at his back. “Steve, Steve, I can’t- It’s too much, oh god-”

“Fuck yeah, take it baby,” Steve mutters. He snakes a hand between you to rub your clit, chuckling like the bastard he is when your hands shoot down to grip his wrist tightly, stopping his motions. “C’mon, baby, why aren’t you letting me play with you? Little pussy is just begging for it, clutching onto me so well. She wants me to fill her up, right? You want it baby, I know you do. Shit, I’ll get you all heavy and pregnant, keep you at home while these pretty tits,” he leans down to bite one of your breasts, bouncing with the force of his thrusts, “get all filled up with milk. Shit, and you’ll just be ready for me all of the time. I’ll fuck you when I get home from work, every night, filling you up with cum while your stomach just gets bigger and bigger.”

Steve resumes playing with your puffy clit, even as you try to hold his hand steady. “You wanna be my little housewife, baby? I know you do, sweet girl, fuck.” Steve doesn’t even fucking feel like he’s real anymore, only existing to fuck you full, breed you up. He feels like a fucking animal, ruthless and barbaric as sweat drips down his forehead and his hips drive forward to claim you in the most primal way he can imagine.

“Gonna- gonna fill this pussy up. My pussy,” Steve grunts, “You’re mine right, baby? Say you’re mine.”

You barely have enough sanity to respond, “Yours, Steve. ‘M all yours.”

“That’s right baby. You’re mine. And I’m yours, you got that? I’m all yours, every part of me. My body, my mind, my soul, it’s fucking yours. God, you’re so perfect, so stunning, can’t- I can’t believe you’re mine, my perfect fucking baby, Christ-”

You open your bleary eyes to see Steve above you, eyes clenched shut, still mumbling. You know Steve, you know that sometimes he starts to spiral when he gets like this, all overstimulated and cock aching as he tries to hold off for you, the hot clutch of your cunt too much for him to bear. You reach a hand up to clutch at the hairs on the back of his head, smiling softly when his eyes snap open.

“Fill me up, baby. Want you to stuff me full with your cum, stretch me out till I’m gaping for you. Fuck Steve, I want you to own me.”

And Steve whines, high-pitched in the back of his throat, before he buries his face in the crook of your neck whispering, “God, you’ve got a fucking filthy mouth, baby.”

And you almost laugh, you would have, if Steve didn’t snap his hips at just the right angle, jamming the head of his cock right into your sweet spot. Steve, calling your mouth filthy. It’s almost comical. But you know that Steve barely even realizes what he says to you half the time, too lost in the sopping hot wetness of your cunt to filter his words. His mouth just runs when he fucks you, unfettered, giving you a glimpse into his deepest thoughts of you and your pretty body.

“Cum, sweet baby,” Steve whispers. “Gotta feel you squeeze around my cock, wanna see you fucking scream.”

And you have no choice but to follow his orders, screaming as you finally cum, pussy fluttering around Steve, still hammering deep into you.

“Fuck, baby, you’re so sexy. Gotta, gotta get one of those video cameras, yeah? Gotta film you falling apart like this, fuck you while we watch it, you look so pretty, oh fuck.” Steve’s eyes clench shut again as his hips still, spilling his cum deep into your overstimulated pussy, gasping out your name.

He slumps heavily on top of you, meeting your lips in a gentle kiss. You giggle at him softly when he looks up into your eyes, his cheeks all flushed and eyes sleepy.

“You think we’ve got enough money right now for one of those new camcorder things?” Steve whispers, moving to lay next to you. You wince minutely as he slides out, and Steve lays an apologetic kiss on your shoulder before he tugs you close to him, your bodies melding together.

“Stevie, baby,” you say, brushing a hand through his soft, albeit sweaty, hair. “If you keep fucking me like that, I’ll buy you ten camcorders.”

#this is what happens when i write while ovulating #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington x you #steve harrington smut #steve harrington fic #stranger things x you #stranger things smut #stranger things x reader

12K notes · View notes

truetogaia · 1 year

Text

im feeding yall so good rn PUTTIN IN THE WORK

pairing: dilf!jake sully x fem!na'vi!reader

genre: smut, 18+

warnings: virginity loss bc im nasty, p in v, a lot of dirty talk, hand job, oral (m recieving), EXPLICIT AND MATURE THEMES, daddy kink hihiihih, a lot of depictions, tsaheylu.

notes: couldn't get over my dilf!Jake brain rot so here we are. Daddy Jake walking his innocent, virgin mate through sex

Word count: ab 800!!

Jake carefully guided you to sit in front of him, between his brawny thighs. It was your first time, and he was gonna make sure to teach you everything he knew. “There you go” your gaze followed his big hands as he lazily undid his, seemingly tight, loincloth. You looked up at him with your pretty doe eyes, looking like a deer in headlights.

“It’s okay, baby. We’ll take it nice and slow, yeah?” You nodded, hesitantly placing your soft hands on his thighs. His cock was rock hard, and huge. Being as inexperienced as you were, your mind raced to try and understand how it would fit.

Jake couldn’t handle the innocent, confused look on your face, only fueling his lust for you. He palmed his growing erection, quickly catching your scattered attention. Your hands nervously reached out to him, gently grabbing his hard length. A dry chuckle erupted from deep in his chest as your soft palms started working up and down his shaft, and with some guidance from the older male, you soon got the hang of it.

“Wanna try using your mouth, hm?” His raspy voice sent a shiver up your spine, heat pooling between your soft thighs. You nodded slowly, letting him guide his fat tip to rest against your plush lips. Jake groaned loudly as your wet, hot mouth enveloped his aching cock, resting his large hands on your head.

“That’s right… such a good girl..hmn- takin' daddy’s cock like this.” You felt around for something to grab, something to hold on to as Jake’s bulbous tip abused the back of your tight throat. His gentle hums and moans of approval reached your ears as you gagged on his girth, not yet managing to fit the whole thing in your mouth. “Atta girl..” His lidded eyes scanned your face, relishing in the fact that you struggled to take all of him. You were drooling, eyes fighting the hot tears threatening to spill over.

Jake pulled out with a grunt, not wanting his release to go to waste. The rough of his palm caressed your jaw, gently grabbing it to shift your gaze to him. “Y’ready?” You answered with a simple yes.

His golden eyes searched for any kind of uncertainty in yours, and when he came out empty handed, he laid you down on your back. “Daddy’s gonna teach you everything he knows, would you like that, sweetheart?” you nodded meekly, feeling his digits run over your soaked folds. A quiet moan escaped you as Jake lightly rubbed your clit. Though he had taken his sweet time preparing you earlier, edging you and making you cum so many times that you lost count, your cunt was still begging for another release.

“Still so wet. You filthy girl.” he cooed, teasingly running his tip through your folds. With a deep, satisfied sigh, he finally sunk into you, reveling in the way your velvet walls sucked him in. Your cunt was drenched in arousal, making it easy for him to enter you in one swift motion.

He let you adjust to the new sensation, and his ridiculous size. It felt odd, to say the least, but amazing. His cock stretched you out so good, stuffing your needy cunt deliciously. He was quick to set an easy pace when you gave the green light. His movements languid and sensual as he fucked into you slowly.

It took a while to fully adjust to his size. The pain soon subsided and transformed into immense pleasure as the head of his cock prodded repeatedly at your g-spot. Your walls molded themselves after the shape of his cock, after every vein and curve that adorned it.

Your soft mewls and moans only spurred Jake on, tempting him to thrust harder, but he knew better. Instead, he brought his hand to rest between your plush thighs, digits rubbing over your puffy clit in sync with his affectionate thrusts.

“That’s my girl. Damn you’re tight, sweetheart.” Your cunt was squeezing him tightly as he rolled his hips into yours, and he couldn’t get enough. Couldn’t get enough of the sensation of your younger, soft skin under his rough hands, couldn’t get enough of the fact that you wanted him to be your first. His thoughts were interrupted when your hands came up to carefully grab hold of his thick braid, pulling it over his brawny shoulder. His heartbeat increased by a thousand when you connected the tendrils of your kuru with his, pupils dilating as the unfamiliar, soothing feeling coursed through the both of you.

The connection was enough to tip you both over the edge. Jake’s hot release painted your velvet insides white while your pussy spasmed, milking him raw. You came hard, body jolting as Jake halted his sloppy thrusts. He chuckled, plopping down to lay by your side. You finally came to your senses when Jake pulled you into his chest, face growing a shade darker as you realized what you had done.

“It was that good, eh?”

4K notes · View notes

deathbecomesthem · 1 month

Note

got caught staring at my male coworker's hand tattoos today (there's script on one of his hands and I couldn't figure out what it said lol) and it made me think of linecook!eddie and if the reader has ever been caught staring at his hands (while he's cooking/prepping) while thinking..impure thoughts lol

This is so incredibly relatable. I have spent too much time thinking about what it would be like to be Eddie Munson's co-worker - there's no way I wouldn't be caught staring at him on a regular basis.

Here's what I've got for you. It's not exactly what you asked for, but this is what my brain said to write:

Eddie Munson x server!reader - there's a bit of smutty fantasy at the end.

+18 ONLY - MDNI

---

The new guy - Kenney? Karl? Keith? Shit, you can't be bothered to remember when you know he'll be gone in less than a month - sloshed vegetable oil on the floor as he made is his way from the storage room back to the kitchen. He knew he spilled the oil, but the head cook, Eddie, intimidated the hell out of the new guy. He didn't want to keep him waiting.

You, of course, had no idea about the oil spill. It's 11:30, and your usual set of lunch tables have just been seated. You're dancing the familiar steps you have memorized - wipe table, greet guests, fill drink orders, greet next guest, get more drink orders, and so on - making your way to deliver the first lunch orders to the line when the heel of your right foot finds the vegetable oil.

It's a slow motion movement. Your arms being to flail as you lose your footing completely. You can feel the impact of the hard tile floor on your tailbone even while you're still mostly upright. You're bracing for impact. There's no way to stop the inevitable, you just hope the damage is minimal. You clench your teeth just as you're about to feel the pain of impact when -

-you're buoyed by a firm grip on your forearms. Behind you, he clocked the sound of the rubber of you sneaker skidding along the tile. He saw the way you lifted your arms above your head, and moved instinctively. Eddie's hands grabbed your forearms hard enough to leave a mark - a small pain to save you from anything worse.

"Woah there. I got you." You can feel Eddie's breath on your neck as he allows your back to fall into his chest. An unexpected embrace that makes your knees weaker. His arms wrap around your center, holding you close. Holding you upright.

You look down and see his hands, strong and capable, holding onto you. You let him hold you, help you back firmly on your feet. You let a hand hold the small of your back, keeping your close, while you both investigate the ground in front of you. You watch those hands as they work the scrub brush against the tile to clean all traces of the offending oil. You watched those hands held out in front of him with he berated the new guy - Keith, you're almost sure of it - about kitchen safety and not killing your co-workers.

And when you climbed under the covers of your bed that night, you thought of those hands. You imaged they were pinching your nipples instead of your own. You imagine his thick fingers, rough fingertips running along your sensitive button. And when you fall asleep, you dream of those fingers inside your mouth while he's fucking you against the diner counter.

You'll never be able to look him in the eyes again.

#eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson smut #asks #aud💜#linecook!eddie munson

416 notes · View notes

sincerestlove · 3 months

Text

Coming Home - R.R

my first tumblr fic, ahhh!! i’m so excited to be sharing my work here. i am absolutely in love with reneé rapp <3

Pairing: Reneé Rapp x Reader

Warnings: Alludes to smut

It was an ungodly hour in the morning when you heard the familiar jingle of keys in the front door. You had fallen asleep some hours before, reruns of The Office playing on the television. Groggily rubbing your eyes, you looked up to see your girlfriend, visibly tired, walking through the door. With a sigh, she shucked her coat on the hangar, kicked off her shoes and made her way towards you.

"Hey, Ne." You sleepily smiled at her, opening your arms for her to walk into.

"Hi, baby." She sighed again, diving head first into the warmth and comfort of your arms. She nuzzled her nose into your neck, slowly breathing in the fading scent of your perfume and shampoo.

You began running your fingers gently through her soft blonde hair, smiling at the way she immediately relaxed into your embrace. "Are you hungry? Have you eaten since you left this morning?" Already knowing the answer, you rolled your eyes when she shook her head no. "Okay beautiful, let's get some food in that tummy."

Coaxing the tired woman to sit up on the couch, you quickly made your way into the kitchen to grab the plate of food you made for her return home. Reneé smiled at you gratefully, her stomach growling on cue. "Thank you, Y/N, you're the best." The blonde began to dig in, you laughing at the urgency of her movements.

"Slow down, babe. The food isn't going to run off of the plate." You grinned at her, the woman pausing to look at you sheepishly.

"Sorry. I'm hungrier than I thought." You waved teasingly, allowing her to finish her meal in silence, turning your attention to the television.

After a few minutes, Reneé returned her empty plate to the kitchen, stopping in the doorway of the living room on her way back. You looked up at her, brow raised. She leaned against the door frame smirking at you, arms crossed under her chest. Her eyes ran up and down your frame, taking in your appearance.

Just then, you took in what she was wearing, and your mouth went dry. She was clad in your favorite tank top, clinging to her in all the right places - hair tumbled loosely down her toned shoulders, slender fingers running up to push it out of her face.

"See something you like, Y/L/N?" She smirked at you, pushing off the frame and sauntering slowly towards you. Your brain short circuited then, mouth hanging open as the woman offered her hand to you, gesturing her head towards the bedroom. You nodded, sleep immediately forgotten, quickly taking her hand and allowing her to drag you to the bedroom you two shared.

Reneé shut the door behind you and gently pushed you against it all in a smooth motion. Your breath hitched in your throat, hands finding solace on her waist. "Are you too tired, Ne? We don't have to do anything tonight, you know?" You assured the woman, knowing how long and tiring her recording sessions have been recently.

She nuzzled into the space between your neck and shoulder, warm lips finding flushed skin. "Never too tired for you, honey. Get on the bed for me, hm?"

~ ~ ~

You weren't sure how much time had passed, but when you came back down from your numerous releases, Reneé was cleaning up between your legs with a warm towel, pressing soft kisses to your tummy. "How are you feeling, love?" She whispered, fingers coming to gently massage your lower back and thighs.

"Good. Yeah, good." You mumbled. Renée laughed, as you felt her cuddle in behind you, kissing the back of your neck and shoulders. She pulled the covers up over the both of you, nuzzling her face into your hair. "This was supposed to be about you, y'know."

Your girlfriend laughed, rubbing your back soothingly. "You can always return the favor later. Sleep now, love."

i hope you enjoyed! please leave me requests if you have any :)

#renee rapp x reader #renee rapp #reneé rapp #reneé rapp x reader

478 notes · View notes

moonstruckme · 4 months

Note

If it interests you, could you maybe do poly!marauders smut surrounding how they would react when reader gives one of the boys a blowjob? If this isn’t comfy for you I apologize immensely. I double checked your rules so hopefully I didn’t overstep or anything. Love your work! Also my middle name is Mae:)))

Honestly babe when I read this I didn’t know if I was comfy with it either (not because of you, just because I didn’t know if I’d be able to write it) but I decided to give it a go and somehow it turned into over 2k words? So thanks!

cw: smut mdni, oral (m receiving), praise, this might be horrible? I can't decide if I hate it

poly!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 2.1k words

Sirius’ kisses have turned sloppy, one of his hands wrapped loosely around your neck while the other wiggles its fingers below the waistband of your jeans, taking greedy handfuls of hip. His hard length presses into your thigh through his pants. You tilt your head, slanting your mouth against his so you can kiss him more deeply, and a low groan rumbles through him.

He plants a chaste kiss on your lips before starting to mark a path downwards.

You know where this is going, and you like where this is going, but still a breathless “wait” slips past your lips.

Sirius pauses, his face hovering over your middle. Next to you on the bed, your boyfriends continue making out, but you can see you’ve caught James’ attention. His eyes open to slits, peeking from beneath his lashes to check on you.

“What’s up?” Sirius asks, rubbing your hip. “Don’t feel like it?”

“No, I just…” you rub your lips together nervously, and you see his eyes drop to the motion. Already large pupils growing larger. “I wanted to know if I can ask you something.”

Sirius’ eyes skim over you, a slow perusal that’s probably meant to deduce the cause of your anxiety but only serves to worsen it. “Sure you can,” he says, tone somewhat gentler than usual. “What is it, sweetness?”

“Could you maybe,” you ask hesitantly, wishing you could lean away from him, as if some distance between you would make this any less embarrassing, “teach me to give you a blowjob?”

Sirius’ lips part in surprise. This time it’s Remus who you catch looking over, a second before James breaks their kiss, sitting up over Remus’ torso.

“You wanna learn?” James asks, lips bitten red and swollen.

You glance between him and Sirius, not quite sure who to look at. “Yeah?” you say, hating the way your voice crawls up into a question.

Sirius’ eyebrows twitch together. “You know you don’t have to,” he says, “right?”

“I know.” You give him a little smile. “I’m just curious, I guess.”

“Okay,” he says. His thumb sweeps over your hip like he knows you need the reassurance. “Yeah, we can show you, gorgeous. Wanna do it sitting down?”

You take a breath, nodding before crawling out from under him and kneeling on the floor by the bed. Sirius follows you, sitting on the edge of the mattress and spreading his legs wide. Your brain buzzes in response to the erection you can see bulging through his pants.

You glance towards the other boys. “Are you guys just going to…watch?”

They’ve both been staring at you, but now James grins sheepishly. “If you don’t mind.”

“We can help, if you’re alright with that,” Remus offers. “Give you tips.”

You can feel your face growing warm at the prospect of them being witness to your bumbling first attempt, but you don’t hate the idea of them coaching you through it.

“M’kay,” you say. “Um, what do I do?”

“Try taking it out, sweetheart.” There’s a bit of laughter in Remus’ voice, but his hand is gentle as he reaches over the edge of the bed, brushing your hair behind your ear.

Your eyes flit up to Sirius’ face. He gives you a smile, and you undo his pants, pulling down the waistband of his underwear so that his length springs free. For a few moments you just look at it, wetting your lips before looking to the boys for direction.

“Here.” James gets down on the floor beside you and takes your hand in his, guiding it to Sirius’ shaft. “You’re probably gonna want to start by holding it like this, okay?” He wraps your fingers around the base. “Good. Now be careful to cover your teeth, and just try putting it in your mouth.”

Just? You glance up at Sirius again, and a bit of pride swells in you at the undisguised lust in his expression.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” you tell him softly.

“Me neither,” he jokes, reaching down to thumb affectionately at your cheek. “You won’t hurt me, baby. And you can stop anytime you want, you know that. If you don’t like it, just stop.”

You bob your head, wrap your lips around your teeth, and take him into your mouth before you can think too hard about it. His cock feels odd and weighty on your tongue. You lean forward a bit, seeing how far you can go.

“Breathe through your nose,” Remus instructs. “Try sucking on it, whenever you’re ready.”

You let your jaw relax, sucking experimentally, like you might on a popsicle. Sirius moans.

“Just like that,” he says, voice taking on a thick quality. “Fuck, good job, baby.”

Warmth unfurls in your gut at the praise. You suckle a bit longer, getting used to the feel of him in your mouth before you begin moving slowly forward and backward. After a few tries, your lips are making contact with the curled O of your thumb and forefinger each time. Sirius’ cock twitches in your mouth.

“You’ve got it, angel.” James’ big hand roves the curves of your side, his touch steadying your nerves and stirring that heat in your core. “Don’t rush yourself, but if you wanna take him deeper you can take your hand off.”

You do it with little hesitation, high on praise and the rush of what you’ve already accomplished, and ease more of Sirius’ shaft into your mouth. He puts a hand in your hair to help you along, but then all of a sudden it’s too deep, too big, too much. You gag, choking.

Sirius’ hand disappears instantly, but you’re not so ready to give up. Your throat spasms around the intrusion, vision blurring as you try to breathe through your nose.

“Easy,” Remus murmurs.

You finally can’t stand it anymore, pulling away and drawing in a gasping breath.

“Shit,” Sirius says, and you lift your teary eyes to his embarrassedly while James rubs your back. “You alright?”

“Yeah,” you manage, swallowing. “Sorry.”

His eyes go soft. “Don’t be sorry, you did great. Do you wanna stop now?”

You shake your head. “I think I just need a second.”

He nods, and there’s a few seconds of quiet, James' hand coasting up and down your spine. “Do you think a demonstration would help?’ he asks.

You swipe under your lashes, looking over at him curiously. “Um, maybe? I’m not sure.”

He exchanges a quick look with Remus before grinning, shuffling closer to where the other boy sits at the edge of the bed and taking off his glasses. “Here. Sirius, talk her through what I’m doing, yeah?”

Sirius seems about as transfixed by what’s about to happen as you are, but he nods. James does as you had, taking Remus’ cock out of his pants, and there’s no need to get it warmed up after the show you’ve been giving them. He feeds it right into his mouth. Remus groans as James takes his entire length expertly, fisting a hand in the other boy’s curly hair.

“Right. Um, see how he’s breathing deep through his nose?” Sirius clears his throat, voice noticeably rough as he watches James’ lips move over Remus’ shaft. “He’s keeping his throat relaxed, not moving back and forth too much.”

You watch as James’ mouth grows wet with spit and slick, his eyes watering a bit as he fights his gag reflex. His throat bobs, and Remus swears, his grip tightening on James’ hair.

“And when he swallows,” Sirius manages, “his throat tightens, which is…uh, nice.”

Remus lets out a breathy, half-delirious laugh at Sirius’ commentary. His cheeks are flushed red from pleasure and the attention, and it’s not long before curses start to spew from his mouth and he goes rigid, cuming down James’ throat. James swallows, grinning up at him. Lips and eyes shiny.

You and Sirius watch them for a few seconds longer, entranced by the sight of your boyfriends.

“Okay.” You clear your throat. “Um, thanks.”

“Yeah, thanks,” Remus says weakly, and you have to swallow a laugh.

You turn to Sirius. “I think I’m ready to try again.”

He gestures as if to say Go right ahead, and you take his shaft in your hand, guiding it back into your mouth. Once again, it takes time to adjust to the feeling, but this time when his head hits the back of your throat you’re ready for it. You breathe steadily through your mouth, focussing on staying relaxed as you suck gently.

“There you go, angel,” James praises, putting his glasses back on to watch you. “You’re taking him so well.”

“Fucking yeah she is,” Sirius agrees, voice growing reedy as he starts to pant. You take one of his legs to steady yourself, hand wrapping around a tattoo on his thigh. “Look at me, baby.”

You lift your watery eyes to his, finding the stormcloud gray nearly eclipsed by dark pupil. The raw want in them makes your cunt throb. Sirius must find your face nearly as arousing, because he mutters another quiet, Fuck.

You’re distantly conscious of Remus shuffling back to the edge of the bed, and then he’s laying his head on his arms, gazing down at you. “Look at you, such a quick learner,” he hums. “You’re doing such a good job, sweetheart. Making him feel so good.”

“Look at her eyes,” James says, just loud enough so you can hear. You know they’re aware of what their words are doing to you, of the wetness pooling in your underwear. “She looks so pretty like this, doesn’t she?”

“She does,” Remus agrees. “Our pretty girl.”

You move a bit more surely over Sirius’ length, constricting your throat tentatively. Sirius moans loudly, his hand twitching toward you before he stops it. You take it in yours, setting it on the back of your head so he can guide you the way he wants.

“Fuck, that’s my girl,” he pants, tangling his hand in your hair. “So good f’me.”

You make a small, pleasurable sound, and another moan slips from between his lips, his hand urging you closer. You breathe through it when his cock sponges against the back of your throat, starting to enjoy the odd sensation of your mouth and throat being so deliciously full—and, if you’re being honest with yourself, the feeling of knowing you’re doing well. And if Sirius’ increasingly loud curses and the other boys’ murmured praise are anything to go by, you’re doing rather well.

“God, I wish you could see how you look right now,” James says, voice smooth as velvet as he drops a kiss on your shoulder. “You’re so lovely.”

“Fucking hot, s’what she is,” Sirius insists, brows coming together so urgently you wonder for a second if he’s in pain. “Fuck. Shit, where can I cum?”

You don’t take your mouth off his cock, doing your best to communicate with your eyes. Sirius seems to get the message, his grip on your hair tightening, pulling at your scalp as his thigh tenses under your hand. You swallow hurriedly, and the sounds that leave him will echo in your dreams for the rest of the week, loud, pleady moans interspersed with mangled curses. Your mouth fills with warm wetness, and you ease him out of your throat before swallowing again.

“There we are.” James tugs you gently away when he realizes neither you or Sirius are moving, pulling you half into his lap. “You did it, sweetheart, great job.”

He strokes his thumb under your eyes for you, wiping away the wetness there as Remus watches you move your tongue around in your mouth funnily.

“You alright?” he asks you.

You nod. “Tastes different than I thought it would,” you say.

James laughs, the sound bright and clear. He plants a smacking kiss on your cheek.

“Not bad, I hope,” Sirius says, voice still a bit stringy. He leans back on his elbows, watching you from the bed.

You feel color rise to your cheeks. “No. Not bad.”

His lips quirk up, eyes steady on yours. “That was fucking killer,” he tells you, “especially for your first time. Thanks for that, gorgeous.”

You grin bashfully, dropping your eyes. James clears his throat loudly.

“Right, right, and thank you for the demonstration,” Sirius adds. “Very instructive.”

James beams, but Sirius only pats the bed next to him.

“Why don’t you hop up here so I can give you a real thanks?”

Impossibly, James’ smile widens. He’s quick to obey, Sirius moving to take his place on the floor. Your lips part, and you hear Remus chuckle. You turn to find his amber eyes watching you. They linger on your lips, still glossy and swollen.

“Y’want me to help you out too, sweetheart?” He juts his chin toward the bed, a silent request for you to lie down. “Seems only fair, doesn’t it.”

930 notes · View notes

luvjunie · 1 year

Text

— roller skating

pairing: e-42!miles x fem!reader

contains: romance, slightlyyy (barely) suggestive fluff, miles and reader are in their late teens for realistic purposes

summary: you and miles go on a date to the roller rink and you have a hard time picking up the skill. you ask him to demonstrate for you and he obliges, but you’re so caught up in him that you’re not sure you learned anything at all. wc: 1,254

a/n: if you want to listen to the song mentioned while reading, i suggest you start it when you come across the spotify link i added during the exact scene it’s playing in the story. i highly recommend waiting until prompted so you can experience exactly what reader did cause chileeee. it hits differenttt like i fr made myself fall in love with this one 😭 also if you didn’t know, this is the exact vibe of a black roller rink lol. example 2

🎧: Close To You - Dreezy, T-Pain

“miles, i’m going to fall.” you whined nervously, your body basically glued to the length of your boyfriend’s right arm.

“you won’t ma, i got you.”

he laughed gently at your uneasy stance, and secretly at how terrified you were of participating in what’s been one of his favorite activities since he was a child.

his skates rolled smoothly against the floor as he guided the both of you to the rink; but yours, however, awkwardly clunked around as you settled for taking wary steps, instead of actually gliding like you were supposed to.

how you ended up agreeing to a date at the roller rink with miles was beyond you. you were someone who tripped over your own two feet at least twice a day from simply trying to walk. but with his promise of teaching you and his guarantee of going slow, your nerves had dissipated some— until you’d actually slipped the skates on and got out onto the rink.

“don’t pick your feet up mama. just push them out to the side, one after the other and lean your body forward. you got it.”

you heard his instructions loud and clear, but your brain still struggled to send the correct signals to your unsophisticated body.

you wobbled against the browned, laminated wood, not really a fan of your newfound lack of control when it came to your own legs. right hand hovered out beside you in preparation for a tumble, the fingers of your left were tightly clamped around miles’ bicep as an effort to keep your balance. you had a death grip on him, too focused on not eating shit to wonder if you were hurting him or not. you weren’t, but even if you were, he wouldn’t tell you.

“you’re overthinkin’ it.” he smiled down at you, finding your instinctive need to hold onto him adorable.

“how the hell do you do this without falling flat on your ass?” you asked, already exasperated from your short trek from the bench.

“i’m just like that.” he shrugged suavely, chuckling discreetly when your head turned towards him with a pointed glare. “practice. my moms taught me when i was eight,” he rephrased, and you stumbled suddenly, but he quickly caught you by your arm, two strong hands steadying you before your feet could sweep out from under you.

“okay, no, this isn’t gonna work,” a shaky breath pushed passed your lips and somehow you managed to bring the both of you to a stop over by the wall of the rink, hand instantly finding purchase on the railing. “can you just, i don’t know… demonstrate, first?” you waved your hand around, motioning towards the other people out on the floor to get your point across. “maybe if i watch you do it, it’ll come to me easier.”

he nodded, retreating from you slowly, backwards. he gestured back and forth between the both of you with his finger, your eyes unintentionally falling to it. “eyes on me, aight?” he instructed with a subtle smirk, a sultry trace lingering in his tone.

you couldn’t take them off him even if you tried, so that wouldn’t be a problem.

you were convinced your attraction towards this man couldn’t become any stronger than it already was, until “Close To You” by Dreezy started playing through the speakers and the spot lights on the ceiling dimmed dreamily to a mellowed pink, blue, and orange— blending into a seductive mix of captivating hues that illuminated the rink. you felt yourself swoon, and had half a mind to curse out whoever was on music and lighting for aiding in the palpitations of your heart as your eyes followed your boyfriend closely.

you watched his feet first, as one fanned out in a small half-circle after the other, the movement allowing him to skillfully glide out onto the bustling rink.

how he was able to skate backwards when you had such a hard time grasping the concept of even doing it the normal way, you didn’t know. not to mention sifting through people without bumping into a single one of them. and while the technique of it all seemed simple on paper, what really impressed you was how effortless he made it look.

facing the opposite way of everybody else as he cruised, his hips languidly swayed to the beat of the music, upper body leaning just the slightest with them and you had no choice but to gawk at him— at how handsome he looked, at how good he was at this. at how his lips were absentmindedly tucked into themselves due to his focus, then unfurled to faintly mouth the lyrics.

lord have mercy.

you were mesmerized to say the least, lips parted somewhat and mouth dry. it was like everyone else had disappeared, like the two of you were the only ones in the room; time moving slower than it usually did.

once he started enjoying himself and got into a groove, he’d forgotten you were even watching him, until he caught your marveling eyes transfixed on him from across the rink, chin dropping to his chest for a beat as he simpered to himself. tongue wetting his lips, he shook his head in amusement. he already knew why you were looking at him like that.

with one foot expertly crossing in front of the other periodically, he maneuvered himself through a few stragglers with a brief look over his shoulder, swiftly spinning around a couple that happened to be in his way.

yeah, now he was just showing off.

you had no idea what your face looked like, but as he rounded back over to where you were, he laughed at your awestruck expression and called out to you.

“you droolin’, mami!”

if your jaw wasn’t already dropped from watching him nonchalantly coast around, it definitely was now.

your fingers mindlessly rushed to check, because honestly you wouldn’t be surprised if you were, only for a playful glower to settle onto your face when you realized he was messing with you.

having forgotten you were supposed to try for yourself, your eyes widened in slight panic when he suddenly skated over to you and gently took your hand, pulling you out onto the floor against your will.

“no no no no-!”

“cálmate, mama.” he drawled, his words dragging on as he shot you that same charming smile that’d made you fall in love with him in the first place. “i’ll hold you, no te preocupes (don’t worry). just c’mere,”

you gave him a look of uncertainty, but reluctantly moved your feet just enough to get closer to him anyway. he met you halfway, and snaked his right arm around your waist, expertly turning you so your backside was facing him before he pulled you flush against his body, and your teeth found your bottom lip before you could stop them.

his left arm then came around to your front to meet the other and your lungs drew in a wavered breath at the feeling of his hands resting on the soft of your inner thighs, dangerously close to having your knees buckling. your face bloomed with a sweltering heat, mind entirely corrupted by him and him only. how the intoxicating aroma of his dior sauvage cologne invaded your nostrils; how it felt being against him like this. lashes fluttering and mind turning to putty at the way he was holding you, your warning to him was merely a whispered reminder.

“miles.”

“shhh, i know what i’m doin’.” his response had a double meaning to it as he kept you tightly pressed to him, figure hunched over yours a bit. his breath warmed your skin and his lips brushed the shell of your ear when he spoke, his hands tapping rhythmically against your thighs to keep up with the beat of the song while he helped guide you into the same fluid movement he’d demonstrated prior.

your hands came down to rest overtop his, and you were shocked at the way your body naturally began to sway in sync along with his once you let yourself relax into him; the both of you settling into a comfortable stroll.

“see, ¿que te dije? (see, what’d i tell you?)” he teased, his voice a deep hum against your cheek. “you got it.”

- please don’t plagiarize, copy, or repost my works to any other platforms!

likes, comments, and reblogs are very appreciated 💗

#junie’s works ᥫ᭡#across the spiderverse #earth 42 miles morales x reader #across the spiderverse fanfiction #earth 42 miles morales #x black fem reader #miles morales x black reader #miles morales fanfiction #miles morales prowler #miles morales x fem!reader #42 miles morales #miles morales x reader #miles morales x y/n #miles morales x you #prowler miles #Spotify

2K notes · View notes