#my little baby who i will give and take the world from

[some-insomniac-writes]

♡ Puppy-lovin' ♡

A/N: Oh my goodness this took me FAR TOO LONG!!!! Commission of headcanons for my lovely sunshine anon, THANK YOU FOR YOUR PATIENCE MY DARLING!!!

Even more headcanons of puppy hybrid and Leon shenanigans!!!

Warnings/content: 2nd person (you/yours), fem pup hybrid reader, grumpy ol' man Vendetta Leon, Leon is referred to as daddy! lots and lots and LOTS of fluff!!! Headcanons!!!

Word count: 3,250 approx.

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What is his biggest pet peeve that she does? (Ik he's obsessed with her HAHA but he  i s  still a grump at times, after all)

TEETHING. That sweet fluffy baby chews on ANYTHING she can get her little canines on. Food and water bowls, toys, chair legs, trashcans, clothes, towels, shoes. Leon has to sit you down and explain that yes you do have very pretty chompers and yes the hybrid vet said they were very healthy and you were a good girl for brushing them on your own but that doesn’t mean you have to PROVE A POINT WITH SAID TEETH!!!! SAVE IT FOR THE SQUEAKY TOYS!!!!! HIS COMBAT BOOTS DID NOT DESERVE THAT GNAWING!!!!!!

I also feel like her whimpering might sometimes get to him?? Depending on his mood. Like making dinner? Whimper. He’s in the bathroom? Whimper. Reading files? Whimper. Tv without her? Whimper. Broken record. His puppy just wants to be around him any time she can because that’s her daddy obviously, and he loves her to bits, but sometimes the man just wants to take a piss alone! We’re talking he gets a few fingers gently bapping at the gap between the floor and the door out of curiosity with mixed whines, or sometimes he has to keep it open a crack so you can hold his hand as he goes. You’re so damn lucky he loves you and that thumping tail of yours.

“Listen, listen, a man has the right to pee in peace. My puppy says otherwise, okay?” -Likely said by Leon as he’s laughing to one of his coworkers about your behaviour. 

₊˚⊹ 𐂯

What's something that'll make him go "Who did this, hm?" And she's like- anxiously wags,,,, like when dogs know they're guilty n stuff 😭

ONCE MORE THE CHEWING!!!! I also feel like she can’t be trusted with porcelain or glass for obvious reasons (cough cough Picture Perfect fic cough) so if he does let her eat with him at a table or anything it’s gotta be plastic. One time she’s wanting to be helpful and get him a glass of water as they’re winding down for the night, he came home from a long tedious day of work, and on her way to the faucet she’s still so excited about him being back that she completely forgets she is in fact holding a glass. When it hits the floorboards it’s instant chaos, babygirl’s sitting there staring at the shards like ‘uh oh uh oh uhohuhoh-’ and not knowing what else to do she puts a pillow over it. Because yeah honey, he’s totally gonna think that's perfectly normal.

So obviously when Leon finds it, seeing the pieces collected in a neat little pile under a cushion, he’s giving a call. 

“Sunshine. C’mere a second, baby.”

And you toddle your way in with that tail slightly tucked, not making eye contact. Oh he already knows what’s going on, you’ve never been very good at lying.

“Y’know, it’s funny sweetheart. I come home from a long day of work, have an amazing dinner with my favourite girl in the world, take a nice hot shower and start getting ready for bed. But right as I’m turning the lights off, I find this.” He gestures rather pointedly to the cushion atop the glass shards. 

“And I’m thinkin’, hm, that’s odd. So I pick it up, and look at what’s hiding under it.” Picking it up by a corner of the casing, he makes sure to add an over dramatic gasp. “Broken glass! Isn’t that the strangest thing, puppy? I mean, what are the odds?” His broad shoulders shrug as if he himself can’t believe this ‘totally random’ sequence of events leading to a pile of glass ‘randomly’ appearing under a pillow. “You wouldn’t happen to know who did this, now would you honey?”

You’ve got your cute butt planted on the floor by now, looking up at him rather pitifully. Staring from beneath your lashes, tail slowly wagging back and forth across the hardwood, ears pressed back. 

When you do finally speak, it’s a mumble of “I was getting you water n’ I forgot…”

He cocks an eyebrow at you. “You.. forgot? You forgot what, sweetpea?”

“...Forgot I was holding the glass..”

Oh his heart just melts. You’re an angel, a bit of a dummy at times, but such an angel. Leon can only shake his head with a chuckle, placing a kiss to the crown of your head. “My sweet, silly girl. Let’s get this cleaned up then, alright?”

₊˚⊹ 𐂯

Do you think Leon will have his days where he needs space from her from a difficult mission/assignment?

It’s a 50/50 depending on how hard the mission was. If we’re talking like freshly Vendetta Leon then definitely. He’s just so mentally drained, sometimes he just needs to have a minute to fall face first into bed, lay there for a couple of hours. He’ll leave to go to the bathroom and hear your paws padding after him but he just doesn’t have the energy to do anything more then pet you as he goes to grab another drink from the fridge. Sometimes alcohol, sometimes soda. It depends on how shitty he’s feeling, how much he wants to torture himself.

Sometimes you sit at the door with a meek whimper and swishing tail, at first confused as to why he’s so down. Pawing at the wood grain like the poor dumb girl you are, missing your favourite person and just wanting to be there with him. From time to time you crawl up into bed next to him, slipping under his arm to lay your face in the crook of his bicep, often to receive a gentle pet. “I just need a second, puppy. You’re my good girl, though.”

A few times you’ve asked him why he gets like that, why he seems to sink back into himself, and he just sighs, rubbing a hand over his face. “Y’know how you get upset after the vet, cause they prod at your teeth with the nasty tasting gloves and you have to get your shots?”

“Uh huh.”

“Well sometimes Daddy gets like that after a really really hard day at work.”

“..If I put a Hello Kitty bandaid on it and..” You scrunch your little nose in thought, “..buy you a stuffie for being brave will you feel better?”

And he just chuckles fondly, giving your hair a gentle ruffle. God, you’re too sweet. “Maybe baby, maybe.”

₊˚⊹ 𐂯

Do you think he'll get better with the drinking with her around, or do you think he still drinks? I imagine that she's not a fan, if he still does!

He definitely tries his best to at least cut down on the drinking, but I doubt he’s entirely sober since - well, it’s Leon - but he really doesn’t feel the need to sometimes. Usually when something shitty goes down he instantly goes for the bottle, but now? Now it takes a lot more to drive him into that spiral. 

Most of the time when his depression hits it’s like you sense it, call it that puppy instinct, and you’re toddling your way over to lay your head on his knee and whimper. He tries not to get too drunk, he knows you hate it. How he sways and scruffs at your hair sometimes a little too hard. But he’s trying. Tries to substitute the shitty burning taste of whiskey with spicy foods as an alternative, or punish himself through tonic water only to look like an angry cat once the glass is finished. Anything other than alcohol if he can stomach it.

Because he doesn’t want you to remember him as someone who drank all the time, he wants you to remember how on the bad days he opened his arms to you and let you lay atop his chest as his own personal weighted blanket. How despite how he used to snap and draw away from everyone, how he’d shoot whiskey like it was water, you coming into his life made it all feel so much easier.

He wants you to remember that you made it easier. You made it better.

₊˚⊹ 𐂯

When she gets in trouble, what is it for? And is there any form of "punishment" or "grounding"? 

Timeout is HUGE, I don’t think he’d have the heart to actually ground her. One bat of those big babydoll eyes and he has to remind himself NOT to cave. The only thing he can’t do is take her toys away, that would eat the big guy up inside AND out, he knows how much you adore your stuffies and squeakies. 

Usually it’s just lockup time in her pen to sit and think about what she did, doing his best to ignore the pitiful sound of your whines of guilt. He knows you hate timeout, but he doesn’t really know how else to punish you! That or taking away your weekly movie night until you behave, which means no 2 or so hours of uninterrupted cuddle time on daddy’s lap, which is worse than a jail sentence in your opinion. 

The cone of shame has yet to be used, same for muzzles. You’ve cut it pretty close a few times with any of the ladies who stick around and talk to him too long though! He had no clue his sweet sunshine baby had a knack for nipping at ankles.

₊˚⊹ 𐂯

Does she beg for food, and if so, how does Leon go about dealing with it?

BIG puppy dog eyes at the table, sitting at his feet. Sometimes he caves, because duh, you’re his baby. But Chris keeps saying he needs to be more stern so he tries and tries and TRIES. But you have those HUGE glossy blinkers on blinky mode up at him, and your tail is swish swish swishing happily against the wooden grain and you just look so ready to get a little bite of whatever he’s got and who is he to deny you? You who wakes him up with kisses and cuddles, who trots along behind him everywhere he goes. You sit at the window and wait for him to get home from work for god’s sake, surely a little piece of food is nothing, right?

He’ll do it cause he loves you, other times cause he wants to see how you’ll react. One time you gave him the puppy stare for a lick of the hot sauce he got to go with his wings, which was a moment of instant regret on your end. Leon had to bite back the biggest smile with an “Is it good, baby?” Watching you smack your lips and tongue with a scrunched up face and furrowed eyebrows. Shaking your head around and yapping as if the taste was a personal attack on you.

Sometimes you even get fancy with it, padding from leg to leg at his feet, doing little spins out of excitement for whatever tasty morsel he’s about to drop into your mouth. I mean c’mon, how is he supposed to resist it?

₊˚⊹ 𐂯

How does he interact with her in his depressive states, and how does she comfort him?

You 100% believe he needs a stuffie. So you’re dropping your toys in his lap with big wet eyes and a slow swaying tail. It has to make him feel better, right?

Leon has two main moods when he’s in his depressions. ‘I’ve ruined everything, no one come near me.’ And ‘I’ve ruined everything, please don’t leave me alone.’ Swinging between these moods like an unstable seesaw, but he just can’t bring himself to pull you down with it. Who is he to look you in the eye and tell you to go away, when all you want to do is help? You’re not a bad girl, not a bad dog, so why should he lecture you on behaviour that comes as natural to you as breathing? Your kindness and need to ensure he’s as happy as you are, it’s practically built into your little puppy brain. Because he’s your daddy, and you love him. 

So he tries his hardest. He lays on the couch for his usual hour of slumping but keeps an eye out for a swishing tail, an ear out for any little whimpers. You’re climbing into his lap, crawling all over him to put your weight on him, cuddling up like a plush toy. 

And he wraps his arms around you silently, letting you be his anchor.

₊˚⊹ 𐂯

When she asks to come with him to work, how does he respond? (Bc obvi she can't come fight bioweapons with him,,)

Sometimes he’ll take her when he has desk duty and Hunnigan just MELTS she LOVES your sweet little tailed self. But other times either he has to call Becca and Claire over to babysit you, cause there’s no way that he can leave his poor sweet girl at home alone! And you whimper and whine the whole time but it’s either that or coax you to go to the DSO before Claire comes to pick you up after the work day is finished.

Like how is he supposed to look at you and go ‘no baby you can’t go with daddy to work because daddy shoots bugs and-’ 

BUGS? YOU LOVE BUGS!!!! BUGS DESPISE YOU SO YOU’LL BE SO GOOD ON BUG DUTY!!!!

“I know puppy, I know. But daddy’s going in a biiiiiiig metal bird, and I know you love to chase birds so I can’t take you with me. Cause what if you bite the bird too hard, huh? Then daddy can’t buy you new toys! Can’t have that happening, sunshine. So, how about this. You can sit at daddy’s desk next to miss Hunnigan and when I talk to her over the little ear phone she can pass it over to you and you can have a chat with me. Is that okay? Yeah?”

₊˚⊹ 𐂯

How does he react when she catches things for him, like bugs or something? (he def didn't ask her to LOL) I feel like she'd be eyeing a moth or something and be like omg a present for daddy :33 (she has good intentions fs)

That man honestly gets a leaf bug or moth at his feet once a month. A little half chewed, he saw you spitting out tufts of wing a few minutes ago so he can guess that’s why. You’ve always been a jumper, pouncing and bouncing around the yard or when he takes you for walks. So it’s no wonder you started up this habit.

“Yes- yes baby, I know you got it just for me and- mhm. Mhm I do love it honey but I just think- And I’m so proud of you for hunting it all on your own but sweetpea how about instead you bring me.. I don’t know, fuck- wait don’t say that word. Hm. I don’t know leaves you find interesting.”

Stupid man. Dumb dumb idiot man. Next thing he knows there’s a small collection of leaves lined up at the back door. He’s gotta figure out an alternative and fast, boy. 

Has he ever had to bandage her up bc she did something dumb that he warned her not to do? 😭

That girl’s mortal enemy is anything that like, rears up at her. Praying Manti, spiders, grasshoppers, wasps and bees. If it moves, and it moves in a way that she perceives as a threat, it will be bapped with her hand.

“Hey- hey woah woah woah woah woah- easy there, tiger.” He’s scooping you up off the grass as you’re growling and yapping at whatever insect has made the mistake of buzzing too close to his sweet girl. “That’s a praying mantis, baby. If one of those big claws gets you, it’s gonna scare the sh- ahem, it’s probably gonna spook you.”

Five minutes later when he sets you back down he hears a startled yelp followed by you scampering around the backyard waving your face back and forth. Yeah he should’ve expected that. Watching as you finally flick the bug away with a huff of disapproval, which is followed by a very overdramatic whimper in Leon’s direction. Obviously need of love and affection after such a traumatic experience. Nothing a bit of antiseptic and plenty of well placed kisses won’t fix.

SO many scrapes. Bee stings, ant bites, mosquito bites, scratches and bruises from bouncing around the yard and house. He had to buy the Sanrio bandaids to patch you up or you refused to sit still. Thankfully your new favourite thing is barking at the other hybrids on the tv, an activity that WON’T result in several bruises. Maybe an earache or two, perhaps a sore throat, but hey, that’s better than box up on box of bandaids. 

₊˚⊹ 𐂯

When he wants her inside, and she does that one excited play pose (you know the one HAHA), does he entertain it, or does he know better to just go inside because she'll follow? LMAO

You’re padding your way around through the grass of the backyard, tail high and wagging proudly. You’d been very successful in your burying of a bone, planting your own little territory outside the house, and because of that success a buzz ran through your body. Being the jitterbug you were with a case of the zoomies coming on, you gave your ears a shake out when Leon’s whistle was heard.

“Puppy? C’mon, babygirl. It’s getting dark.”

But you were just getting started! Maybe you could convince him, after all if puppies had to listen to their daddies, surely daddies had to listen to their puppies right? That’s, like, the law. And you still have so much energy!

So, ever the bouncy pup you are, you crouch down into ‘the pose’. Everyone knows which one. The one you pull when you’re telling another hybrid you wanna play, the half bow with you eyes locked on him and a fast wagging tail.

“Baby- no. Oh, don’t give me that face..” Leon runs a hand over his face with a long sigh, biting back a smile with all the teeth he can manage.  

But you’re giggling with that big grin on your face, hands braced like paws against the grass and ears perked up expectantly.

“Honey..no. Now-

As soon as he takes a step towards you, no matter how small it is, you’re jumping in a little circle with happy yaps. Next thing he knows you’ve got the zoomies, and you’re bounding your way through the freshly-clipped lawn. All he can really do is lean against the outside wall and wait for you to run out of energy, arms crossed with a grin on his face. IIt doesn’t last too long thankfully, a few bounces, a couple of spins and you’re trotting over to him panting. He watched the whole thing, your tail wagging a gazillion miles an hour each time you hopped, skipped, and jumped. You always found endless ways to entertain yourself outside, Leon really didn’t know how you did it. 

 And yeah, it was getting dark out, but it was only a few minutes more of watching his sweet girl bound around happily, he’d only really try to rouse on you if it was for your safety. But right now? As your big eyes watch fireflies fill the backyard’s air, pawing weakly up at them between giggles, he knows it’s worth it. 

₊˚⊹ 𐂯

Like my work? Consider buying me boba!

[stevie-petey]

Maybe a little baby blurb of Steve's daydream/ dream life with bug. Basically what he was imagining their life would be like outside of Hawkins. I always picture Steve daydreaming about it before bed😭

as always im missing steve n bug and since chap 3 is taking a while heres some fluff <333

enjoy !

"you need to sleep," steves lips press against your forehead. the skin is overly warm, scrunched in concentration.

you try to shrug him off. without looking up from your notes, you wave a dismissive hand at him. "no time."

"did you just shrug off my doting kiss?" steve scoffs at you, offended. only you still don't look up from your notes. he worries about your neck, he knows your back will ache later tonight. weary and full of concern for you, as he always is, steve softens his voice. "angel, youve been at this for days."

"just a few more hours, then i'll go to bed."

"you said that three hours ago."

"and now im saying it again."

youve been cramming for an exam since wednesday. its currently friday and your body hasnt left your desk since early morning.

steve cups the back of your neck, settling his palm against its base. He massages the joint that sticks out, eases the tension between the muscles. youre exhausted, its obvious to anyone. "come lay down with me."

"steve-"

"please?" he brings the tips of his fingers to your chin. gently, he angles your head up; his eyes meet yours. in the brown and honey that coats his eyes lays love and adoration, a softness meant only for you to see. "i miss you."

your eyes swim with conflict. steve can see the part of you that always abides by responsibility. you hate disappointing people, you hate failing. the only reason youre in college is because of the incredible scholarship you received for your academics.

yet theres a part of you that melts at the idea of laying in steves arms. to rest against his chest and listen to his heartbeat. feel his hand tangle in your hair, his nails scratching your scalp. youd wilt into his body and wrap around his ribcage.

"i..." you bite your lip, slowly giving in. steve knows the weight of your bones must be heavy. he strokes your cheek, finger lingering on your lips. closing your eyes, you admit defeat. "carry me?"

the moment the words leave your mouth, steve sweeps you into his arms and cradles you against his chest. carefully he navigates your small apartment. the walls are narrow and theres hardly any room to breathe, but itd been all you could afford in new york and it was only yours and steves. no one elses.

it was your home together.

steve sets you down on the bed and crawls in beside you. he throws his arms around you, encasing you against the world. burying his face against your neck, he settles his weight against you. you breathe him in, push yourself further into his body, and for a moment everything is still.

"im not going to bed, you know." you mumble into his shoulder.

he laughs, the sound reverberating your bones. "just lay with me for a little while longer."

"always," your lips whisper against steves skin.

warmth seeps into his chest, coats his lungs with sickly sweet honey. he can taste it in his mouth, it mixes with the aroma of your perfume. his body buzzes with all the love he has for you, for all the gratitude within him to have escaped hawkins with you. to be so lucky as to know youre still his, hes still yours, and that youve made something for yourselves despite all the pain youve endured together.

then a piercing ring rips through steves eardrums. he sits up in bed, heart pounding with adrenaline. his hand slams down on his alarm clock on his bedtime table, silencing it.

he rubs his face, groans with exhaustion.

steve had been having such a good dream. he can still feel your weight on his chest. he already misses it.

he'll blame robin for it later. shes the reason hes getting up so goddamn early, anyways. shes the one who needs a ride to her stupid pep rally.

[venjras]

MIND GAMES - SUKUNA.

same as the one before only for sukuna this time. enjoy. nsfw : slightly exhibitionism, dirty talk, fingering, dry humping, use of pet names, mention of alcool.

you felt on top of the world tonight, you could feel the electricity running through your entire body. heading to the bar where your boyfriend was waiting for you with his friends, since you were early for your date with your bestie you had decided to stop by for a quick hi. after all, it had been a while since you had last seen the boys.

you would have recognized your boyfriend's pink hair from miles away, sitting with one arm resting on the couch, shirt unbuttoned and a bold smirk as he talked to the others. it still seemed unreal that he was your boyfriend. sigh, entering his vision and immediately gaining his full attention. his gaze was quite literally setting you on fire, making it really difficult for you to walk properly towards them. “oh, oh, look who's back.” it was gojo’s voice greeting you, bringing you back to the real world. in the meantime sukuna had stood up, immediately putting an arm around your waist and stealing a small kiss from you.

“hello, my love.” his deep tone ran straight down your spine, creating a flock of butterflies in your stomach that made it hard to breathe. trying not to show it, settling next to him, taking off your jacket and leaving it abandoned next to your body, leaving your fit completely expose.

a flowing mini skirt that reached just above your mid thigh, a black shirt tucked into it, extremely tight, mid-knee boots and as a final touch hanging from your neck was the necklace he had given you for your anniversary. shiny. “didn't think you'd miss me that much, don't worry it won't happen again.” you said sarcastically, greeting megumi, yuji and suguru sitting around the rest of the table. they all adored you and it was a mutual feeling, right from the start you had found a really good connection and after all they had turned out to be such precious friends for him so it couldn't have been otherwise.

speaking of the devil, he hadn't taken his eyes off you for not even a second. his arm was stretched out behind you, his hand caressing the back of your neck. he always needed some form of physical contact, even small and this thing had always driven you crazy. it made you weak, slowing down any logic and rational thought. putting you under a spell. you were all lost in talking, chatting about the news and joking animatedly. after half an hour you glimpsed your friend and stood up to hug her immediately. the skirt had risen up a bit, giving a dizzying view to the pink-haired man who couldn't help but lick his lips. just enough to tease him a little. tonight you felt inspired, you wanted to provoke him and maybe end up bent over in the back of his car. obviously the view was simply reserved for him, behind you all was the wall and it was something calculated to perfection. putting on your coat, bending a little to greet him with a kiss and finding his hand on the back of your thigh, caressing the naked skin with his fingertips. “i'll take you home, hmm? have fun, babydoll.” and so he let you go, your head spinning and your friend's words sounding all jumbled together.

the hours passed quickly, between one drink and another, not enough to make you drunk but enough to make you feel lightheaded. however, the feeling in the pit of your stomach had not abandoned you, in fact it had only increased. now you were in the car with him, in the passenger seat, you two were driving your friend home. and once you were alone, silence had fallen, but it was a silence full of desire, as if there was no need to speak to know what was going to happen soon. very soon. “baby.” you turned your head towards him, reaching out to caress his hair. “i really, really need you ‘kuna.” the words had come out fluidly before you could even think about them, your voice full of need, of desire. taking his hand, already resting on your thigh, bringing it even higher until it collided with the edge of your panties.

the car suddenly stopped, luckily you were on a not very busy street and almost immersed in nothing but pitch black so it was rare for other cars to pass by. in no time you were on top of him, his mouth attached to yours, drinking you up desperately. hands squeezing your ass, pushing you down on his clothed erection, making you feel how much the whole situation was anything but indifferent to him. moaning against his lips. starting to move your hips against his cock, panting as you felt how hard he was. “need you so bad.” your voice was needy, pulling away from him just so you could look at him with pleading eyes, thinking that you could easily come just by seeing him with labored breathing and messy hair, totally fucked.

now he had you turned, back against his chest and the car visor lowered so you could see yourself in the small mirror. legs spread, blushing violently at the thought of being completely exposed to his merce. “you wanted to play, then let's play.” he said huskily in your ear, making you want to clench your thighs together in search of some relief but being stopped by his hands that kept them well spread. “sukuna.” your voice was begging him, lifting your hips slightly as one of your hands went back, squeezing his dark locks, not thinking you could resist any longer. you needed him to touch you right now. “what a messy girl.” he quipped at the way your thighs seemed to spread wider at those word, your impatience made him feel lightheaded. his fingers stroking softly along your wet folds through the panties' fabric. his breathing fanned along your neck and his lips curled when you shuddered into him, drinking in the twitch of your thighs and the muffled whimper slipped from your lips when he collected your slick, trailing it up to ease the first roll of your clit.

he watched your hips twist under his touch, making him press down on the sensitive bud harder before he's finding a pace and rubbing at you with two fingers. your hands grabbing at his forearm with every sinful circle of his fingers against your cunt, whimpering needily against his body and it's almost like you re begging him not to stop, and that only drives him to press into you even harder, more eagerly as he get lost in the way your lips part to moan when he finally sinks his fingers into your pussy. penties finally pulled to the side.

“so fucking wet, my pussy it's always so ready f' me.” he groaned, his tone wavering with the weight of his arousal. he took a handful of your breast through your shirt, grinning when he realised you ve decided to go out without a bra tonight, rolling and twisting at the sensitive peak as you whimpered. “such a dirty girl.” eren's words were heavy, only making the slick between your legs intensify, making it easier for him to sink his fingers into your tight walls, pressing them against the swollen, sensitive spots inside of you with every practiced twist of his wrist. your clit was getting puffier, more swollen with each graze of his palm against it and he couldn't help but pull out of your cunt to rub your slick around it. so so sensitive to his touch.

“ s — sukuna.. ” you gasped, trying desperately to muffle your moans when you looked over to cast him a starry-eyed look, one that lured him in for a kiss that made the whole car spin as his other hand rolled your sensitive nipple between his thumb and forefinger. drinking in your next languid moan of his name, licking into your mouth with such an intensity that made you gasp.

“that's my girl, fuck — ” your thighs trembled around him, breaking apart from the kiss wetly to let your head fall back against his shoulder. he kept up his movements, sinking his fingers into your clenching walls with every few swipes just so he could feel the way you were soon going to be squeezing around his length. letting you ride out your orgasm as you grabbed at him and your hips twisted and jolted with every rub of his fingers as they pulled back to roll your clit, prolonging your blissful state until you were pushing him away with a whimper and breathless pant. but he was breathing heavy from where his chin was pressed into your shoulder, grazing his lips along your jawline when he tapped on your clit. chuckling at the way the tiny aftershocks made you jolt before he gently tapped on your thigh.

you just could never win with him, you would always end up at his feet in the end. not only metaphorically.

©️ venjras.

[atleastpleasetelephone]

Nights of Endless Love Part 26

A fic set in Vegas in 1971 at the start of Elvis' first residency that year, where he meets a Vegas showgirl who isn't interested. Smutty, fluffy, angsty drama.

To catch up with the other parts, go here. As always, thanks go to @vintagepresley for the idea in the first place and continued inspo! And many thanks to @eapep for her editing skills!

18 and over only.

Pairing: Elvis + OC - Mia, a Vegas showgirl

Wordcount: 3.3K ish

TW: Drug abuse, health issues, angry!Elvis, a little bit of violence, crying, oral (f receiving), then much fluff.

A/N: This is the final part! I fully sobbed when I finished writing this. It's been a real labour of love and I will miss Mia and Elvis and their little world. Not to say that we might not go back and see how they're doing from time to time, but for now this is the end of their story.

“I’m so tired. Elvis this schedule is impossible.” Mia collapses down onto the sofa, still in her stage outfit. They’re more than half way through the stint in Tahoe, and she only has a two hour break before she’s due back on stage again. Things have got worse since she started going on with him to do a song or two in the middle of his set. 

“It’s not impossible. You just need one of these shots,” he looks over to Dr Nick. “Nick, give her a shot.”

Dr Nick moves warily over to Mia. She pulls a face and puts her hand out to stop him. “Dr Nick do not give her a shot. She has autonomy over her own body.”

Elvis is standing over the other side of the room, still in his jumpsuit, sodden with sweat. One of his legs is jiggling about and he's fiddling incessantly with one of his big rings. Two of the tell-tale signs that Nick had been in here giving him a shot before the second show. As if she didn’t know already.

“Well don’t blame me if you can’t hack it.”

Mia stands up, annoyed now. “If I can’t hack it? You’re the one taking enough pharmaceuticals to floor an elephant.”

Dr Nick moves from foot to foot awkwardly. Mia wasn’t often in the room when he was treating Elvis, but he’d already got the impression she wasn’t keen on all of the drugs. He isn’t keen on all of the drugs either, but Elvis will only find someone else if he stops prescribing. He’s never seen them fight before, and he would like to get out before it turns nasty. He knows Elvis has a temper.

Elvis starts moving towards her in that ominous way he has, his lip curling, blowing furious air out of his nose. “I need them. This is none of your damn business woman.”

“None of my business! I’m only living with you and engaged to marry you!”

“Well maybe you need to learn to do as you’re told.” He grabs one of her arms and starts trying to manoeuvre her towards Nick, who is looking quite alarmed by this point. Mia wriggles and tries to get him off her. She sees his other hand coming to grab her and aims a kick at one of his shins. “Ow!” He almost shrieks. She uses the opportunity to pull her arm free and then slaps him across the face for good measure.

“You are not the boss of me!” She screams.

“You come back here,” he hisses as she stands, panting in front of him. 

She thinks that she hasn’t actually gone anywhere and he could grab her from here if he really wanted to.

“I’m not having a damn shot, Elvis. I’m sick of seeing you take all this stuff. I’m sick of waking up in the night and checking if you’re still breathing. I’m sick of worrying about you all the time. I want you to rest,” she finds herself faltering, holding back tears. “I love you.”

He closes the gap between them, and for a moment she can’t tell if he’s going to kiss her or hit her. He pushes her the few steps back it takes to hit the wall, and then his mouth is on hers, his tongue pushing insistently into her mouth, his hands grabbing her arms and pressing them against the wall next to her head. Somewhere that sounds like a million miles away she hears the clunk of the door. Nick must’ve finally had enough.

“Baby I love you too,” he says, when he finally comes up for air. “I’m sorry. Let me make it up to you.”

He starts slowly unzipping her catsuit, kissing her newly exposed skin as he goes. He stops briefly to pay her nipples some attention, but it’s clear where he’s headed, as he presses kisses to her stomach and slides the zipper down all of the way to where it finishes between her legs. She gasps when he first licks her clit, firmly and repeatedly, looking down to see him on his knees in front of her, worshipfully. His tongue dips down lower, tasting her properly, his lips and chin slick with her juices. She whines, desperate for more contact.

“Put your leg on my shoulder baby,” he says, the words buzzing against her.

She does, feeling his fingers spreading her cunt so he can better access it, lapping at her, pushing his tongue inside. His thumb moves to rub her clit as he carries on licking, the fingers of his other hand digging into the skin of her thigh and ass. She moans, grabbing her breasts and rubbing her nipples. She’s so turned on even just at the sight of him kneeling in front of her like this, burying his face in her cunt, licking and sucking like his life depends on it.

He moves to suck on her clit now, looking up at her as he does it, his hair soaked with sweat from the show earlier and her arousal all over his face. He slides a finger inside her and curls it slightly, waiting to hear her reaction. She groans, feeling him hit that spot inside of her and wriggling to try and get more contact from his tongue.

“Hold my head Mimi. Do whatever you want with me.”

She shivers at the words. She loves it when he tells her to use him like this. 

“Another finger…please,” she just about manages.

He nods and slips a second finger inside her.

She reaches down and takes hold of his head, fingers digging into his damp hair. She starts to roll her hips so that her clit rubs against his tongue, holding onto him gently and then as the pleasure starts to build she finds herself gripping him desperately, pushing her cunt into his face, not really caring anymore if he can breathe. She’s so close now, all she can think of is reaching that high. As her orgasm washes over her she grips his head even more tightly, crying out and feeling tears falling down her cheeks. She shakes and cries, finally letting him go and sliding down the wall, somehow getting her leg off his shoulder and ending up sitting in a little pile at the bottom of it.

“Fuck, honey.” Elvis is beet red, and he’s taking great gasping breaths.

She looks over at him, and realises she might’ve actually been suffocating him. “Oh shit. Are you alright?”

“Honey. You’re crying.” 

Mia laughs, even though she’s still crying. “I’m crying, you’re nearly suffocated, this is all going great.”

He moves to try and kiss her and she holds her hands up in front of her face. “Ahh. Wash your face!”

He laughs and grabs her arms, pinning them to her sides. “No,” he replies, kissing her on the mouth. She can feel the slickness of his lips, covered in her juices, and taste herself on his tongue. “If you’re going to smother me the least you can do is kiss me afterwards.”

She laughs, and then he pulls her into his arms, leaning against the wall himself. “Baby why were you crying? I thought you were enjoying yourself.”

“I just felt overwhelmed. I love you so much and I really want this to work, but it’s just fucking exhausting. I’m sorry I nearly killed you.”

He chuckles into her ear. “It’s okay, I asked for it. In more ways than one. And I love it when you’re so uninhibited like that, especially all over my face.”

She squeals. It smells like sex and sweat all around her. They really need to shower before the next show.

He nuzzles her neck. “I’m sorry about earlier. I shouldn’t have got mad at you. You’re right, we can’t carry on like this. But I don’t know what else to do.”

***

They somehow finish the Tahoe commitment but tell Jerry and the Colonel that there’s no way they can keep up that level of work. It was what they’d suspected would happen, and although the Colonel has his views on how many shows Elvis and Mia should do, for once he keeps his mouth shut. Jerry has been a good influence on him from that perspective. He’s learning how to diversify, has even thought of taking on one or two more clients. Jerry suggests one show a night is more reasonable, tours could be longer but there would be more gaps between dates and fewer residencies. Mia and Elvis both agree, and leave the meeting somewhat relieved. 

Mia knows the amount of shows isn’t the only problem though, and so she decides to broach something with Elvis as she watches him rubbing his belly and grimacing.

“What do you think about checking yourself into a hospital?”

Elvis almost jumps. “What? There’s nothing wrong with me!”

Mia puts her hand on top of his. “You’re not in any pain just now?”

He sighs. “Okay, but… hospital?”

“Please. For me. I’ll stay in there with you. We can order in whatever food you want. But I think you need to go and get checked out, and… maybe you need to come off some of what you’ve been taking.” 

She’s very nervous about the last part of the sentence. He’s never taken interference in the drugs he takes very well in the past. She had thought she wouldn’t interfere in that part of his life, but the shows at Tahoe showed her that she had to. She watches his face twist into a variety of different expressions, as if he’s having a not-very-internal battle with himself. 

“You’ll stay with me the whole time? Even if they want to do things to me? Look for stuff? You’ll be there? You promise?” He’s starting to sound a little panicked, but it seems like the agreeable Elvis has won this time. 

“Yes. I won’t let them throw me out of the room. I’ll be there with you the whole time I promise.”

He takes a deep, shuddering breath. “Okay then.”

***

Mia keeps her word. They check into the hospital together and she’s there holding his hand as they do blood tests, check his blood pressure, put drops in his eyes. When they tell him he needs a colonoscopy he looks at her and she tells him it will be okay and she will hold his hands and talk to him the whole time. He nods like a frightened child but does whatever she says. They slowly take him off the complicated mixture of pharmaceuticals he’s been taking since he was in the army, working out exactly what he needs rather than what he wants. Mia stays up a lot of the nights, lying in the bed with him, stroking his hair and wiping his brow as he sweats and twists and turns uncomfortably in his sleep. With the best will in the world, his withdrawal is still horrible and he begs her to let him take something for it, crying in her arms. 

A week after they first got there, he’s sat up in bed as she lays dozing after another tumultuous night. 

“Hi there.” A voice Mia can’t quite place, deep and sonorous. She tries to ignore it, but Elvis’ response makes that impossible.

“Lawrence! It’s been so long!” 

Elvis is feeling good for the first time since he checked into the hospital, and seeing Larry has made him genuinely excited, dropping the book he was reading and sitting up properly in bed. All of this jostles Mia so much she sits up again with a groan. 

“How’re you doing, man?” Larry asks, sitting down on the armchair in the room. 

“Great. So much better. They’ve taken me off a lot of things and… I do feel good for a change, Larry. They’re bringing me all these fresh fruits and vegetables and Mia is helping me decide which ones I like.”

He looks over at Mia, whose hair is absolutely everywhere, eyes barely open, looking like she needs to sleep for a week. He strokes her face. “Baby, why don’t you go to the room across the hall and get some proper sleep?”

The hospital staff had reserved them another room in case Mia wanted to sleep somewhere separately sometimes, but she hasn’t left his side for the whole week. 

“You sure?” She replies, groggily. 

“Of course, Angel. Larry can keep me company for a while and you look like you need to sleep somewhere comfy.”

She nods and shuffles off across the corridor. 

“I hear you’re getting married?”

Elvis grins. “Yeah. When the divorce is finalised with Cilla, we certainly are.”

“I’m so pleased for you Elvis. Things really seem to be turning out well lately.”

Elvis is beaming. Things were turning out well. He has an idea to make them even better. “Say, you wanna be my best man?”

Larry is taken aback. They hadn’t been in touch much recently, a hair cut here and there and a few chats, but nothing like the intensity of their relationship previously. He’d been wondering if they were just drifting apart. 

“I’d be honoured!”

Elvis reaches across to shake the other man’s hand, firmly. “Wonderful. I’m sure Mia will be pleased too.”

***

Mia had never thought she’d be so nervous on her wedding day. What is there to be nervous about? Fluffing up the words? Tripping over her dress and falling on her face? Actually, both of those seem like pretty bad options. She smooths her dress down and looks at herself in the mirror. Life on the road hasn’t exactly stopped the ageing process. If anything, it’s accelerated it. She had her grey hairs dyed back to brown in readiness for today, there’s a lot of strong elastic holding her not-so-little belly in and a face full of make-up hides her tired eyes and wrinkles. But she finds somehow that she doesn’t mind so much any more. Elvis’ hair is still white and he is completely unapologetic about it. He gets his reading glasses out when he needs to and he ignores the jibes from the guys. They worship one another’s bodies, no matter whether they find wrinkles or extra fat there. Elvis is particularly delighted by the fact that she’s put on a little extra weight on her ass, kissing and kneading it at every opportunity. Every morning he tells her how beautiful she is, or sings Mia In The Morning, no matter how many times she hits him with a pillow and tells him to shut up. The tests at the hospital showed that he has a problem with his intestine that makes his belly swell from time to time, and Mia makes sure to show him how much she loves him whenever it happens. He’s given up trying to push her away when she pushes his shirt up and kisses him all over. In fact, he almost looks forward to it.

Mia smiles at her reflection. It had been one helluva year. When she’d started 1971, performing on that stage in the Tropicana, she had no idea things would turn out like this. That she’d be getting ready to marry one of the most famous men in the world. That she’d be so in love with him.

“You ready?” Amanda asks. Mia had to spend an entire drunken day catching her up on everything that had happened over the past couple of months, but she was the only person she wanted as her maid of honour. 

“As I’ll ever be.”

Her dad walks into the room, blinking back tears at how beautiful she looks in her dress. 

“Time to go, pumpkin?”

Mia nods and takes his arm. Elvis had encouraged her to get back in contact with her parents, so she’d invited them to the show when they visited her hometown. She was surprised when they came, and even more surprised how proud they were of her. She suspects it has something to do with Elvis, who put on the world’s biggest charm-offensive when he met them, and who of course they loved instantly. Her dad was over the moon when she asked him to give her away at the wedding. 

She can feel herself shaking as they walk slowly down the aisle to meet the man standing at the end of it. Elvis is shaking too, he’s asked Larry approximately 15 times already whether he still has the rings, and until he saw her for himself a few moments ago, he had completely convinced himself that Mia wasn’t coming. The walk is interminable for both of them, Elvis sweating and worrying about stuttering his vows and Mia concentrating on not falling over her own dress. When she finally gets there and they turn to face one another, holding each other’s hands tightly, they both let out shaky breaths. And then they realise what they’ve done and both giggle. It’s like the rest of the world completely disappears when they look at one another. Until, that is, the celebrant starts to speak. 

“In the presence of God, Father, Son and Holy Spirit, we have come together to witness the marriage of Elvis and Mia, to pray for God’s blessing on them, to share their joy and to celebrate their love.”

Despite their fears, the ceremony goes smoothly. Larry hands over the rings. No-one declares a reason they can’t get married, and neither of them mess up their vows. Elvis stutters a little but it just makes Mia love him more, if that were possible. They kiss passionately when they’re told they’re now man and wife, and little Lisa-Marie is the first person to start throwing confetti. Mia briefly wonders if it’s odd to have your husband’s ex-wife as one of your bridesmaids, but then decides she doesn’t care. Priscilla is still such a good friend to her, she’d even helped to pick out Mia’s dress. 

The party that follows goes on well into the night. It starts with a first dance to actual Jackie Wilson performing (Your Love Keeps Lifting Me) Higher and Higher, and sometime around midnight Mia finds herself still in her wedding dress, trying to teach Red West how to rumba. 

“Never thought you’d last, you know.” He says into her ear as she tries in vain to get him to stop standing on her feet. 

“Oh really?” She laughs back, pushing his hip with hers. 

“No. Thought he’d have enough of you being so bossy.”

“You should be concentrating or you won’t get any better.”

Red looks up at her. “I’m not really trying to get better, I’m enjoying you manhandling me if I’m honest.”

Mia bursts out laughing, shoving him back and away from her. “I’ll tell my husband you said that.”

“You’ll tell your husband he said, what?” 

Elvis is suddenly behind her, his arms around her waist. She leans back against him and smirks. “Red West is trying to get close to me, husband.”

“Oh, is that so, wife?”

“Hmm yes. But I wouldn’t worry about him, I’m not interested.” She spins around in his arms and puts hers around his neck. “I just feel sorry for him.”

Elvis looks up at her and chuckles, humming with pleasure as she leans her forehead down against his. “He is pathetic, you’re right.”

Red rolls his eyes and huffs, wandering off to find someone else to annoy. 

“How is my beautiful wife?” Elvis asks her as they sway back and forth to the music. 

“I’ve never been better. How is my handsome husband?”

“I’ve never been happier. Today has been perfect. You’re perfect. I can’t wait to spend the rest of my life with you.”

“I can’t wait either, lover.”

The band starts playing From A Jack To A King.

From a Jack to a King / From loneliness to a wedding ring / I played an Ace and I won a Queen / And walked away with your heart

***

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[averagewriter-inthedark]

The Romantics 🎸 | Pete Mitchell Imagine

Part of my 'Y/n & The Romantics' TGM AU verse

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | TGM Masterlist

Characters & Pairings: Captain Pete ‘Maverick’ Mitchell x 80s Rockstar!reader (romantic), Bradley Bradshaw x reader (mother/son-type relationship), Dagger Squad (platonic)

content warnings: Fluff, slight profanity, flirtatious banter, light suggestive content, mentions of past drug use. pop culture references | Female!reader (she/her) | wc: 5k

Requested 📨 yes/no (for @fangirlvibez) 🩶

Premise: After two years since getting the band back together, Y/n and The Romantics have got the opportunity most artists dream of getting when they've achieved legendary status in their career: a documentary film. Recalling the days of discovery, early stardom and the love she found along the way, frontwoman & daughter of Rock n' Roll Y/n L/n-Mitchell writes a love letter to not only her fans, but the pilot who captured her heart...and the little girl with a voice of an angel who broke away from God to become a rockstar.

Note: I've said it and I'll say it again, writing dagger squad x famous!reader is in my top 3 pairings I've written for, and it makes me so happy that after two plus years of doing them, you guys love them and continue to request them--even when I've been slacking on getting through requests. This request was the spark I needed and once I started typing, it never stopped. Again (like every note in my works the past several months) I'm sorry for the wait and I hope this gives you everything you hoped for. 🩶

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

3….2….1…

“Are we rolling?” Y/n laughed, apologizing to the producers and crew in front of her when she realized they had already begun filming when she was off in la la land singing ‘How Will I Know,’ by Whitney Houston under her breath while an assistant made sure the mic was secured on her t-shirt.

“Yes, Ms. Y/n,” the lady in an all red pantsuit chuckled, adjusting her headset and motioning for the cameraman to not stop the camera. “But don’t worry we’ll edit it out.”

They were not going to edit it out. In fact it was going to be the opening sequence to Y/n’s personal bits. 

“I’m so embarrassed,” the rockstar hid her face with a hand, but then remembered she valued her life and would not ruin the masterpiece her makeup artist had created. “I’m sorry--I’m ready when you are, darling.” 

To celebrate the 45th anniversary of the release of their first song, Y/n & The Romantics were approached by HBO to film a documentary recounting their early days of their group, the height of their career, the twenty-year hiatus, and finally their reunion with a crew following them during the American leg of their 2024 world tour. It was an exciting opportunity. One the band--and especially their lifelong fans--were delighted. 

It’d been two years since their return to music. Together as a group that is. And not once had it lost its thrill. Releasing two albums, going on back-to-back World Tours, winning two Grammy’s and three Moonman. Performing at the Billboard Music Awards where they received the Icon Award. A song from their early albums featured on the Guardians of the Galaxy Vol. 3 soundtrack. 

Things were looking great. Perfect.

Now Y/n sat in the comfort of her home, dogs taking claim to areas not occupied by the many crew members, recording her personal interviews for the documentary while Pete and Rooster worked in the garage to pass time until Y/n and Pete were to do their piece. 

The producer adjusted herself in the chair, clipboard in her lap, “So, Y/n, I’m going to ask some relatively basic questions, but just speak what your heart desires. Sounds good?”

She gives a thumbs up, “sounds great.”

“I guess we’ll start by having you introduce yourself,” a few chuckles rang out. Y/n letting out a giggle as the producer shrugged with a smile. “I know, I know. We know you but for this part we’ll be showing flashbacks of your early childhood.” 

“Okay, okay. No pressure.” Y/n got comfortable. Looking straight at the camera, Y/n gave a dazzling smile. “Hi, I’m Y/n L/n, songwriter and frontwoman of Y/n and The Romantics. I was born and raised in Atlanta, Georgia and I will not disclose my age,” she winked, chuckling with the crew. She recently celebrated her 60th birthday. “You can google that information.” 

“Can you tell us about what your childhood was like? For those who may not know, how did you and the others meet?”

Y/n inhaled deeply, the memories of growing up in the late 60s and early 70s surfacing. Replying in her mind like an old film. Beaming as she recalled, “we all lived on the same block--went to the same elementary school and junior high before we got signed. Maya and I were neighbors, Evan lived across the street. Danny and Ronnie were up the road, closest to a convenient store we’d go to on the weekends to grab a coke or smoke a cigarette. We rode the same bus, had the same teachers. If I wasn’t at Maya’s, we were down at Ronnie’s or one of the guys. Chilling in the garage listening to the Beatles and B.B. King or taking the city bus to our favorite record store.”

A distant look in her eyes appeared when she began talking about her family. Both sets of grandparents died before she reached 21. Luckily they were able to witness Y/n’s career take off but missed out on major milestones. A few cousins passed on over the years, as did many friends. Unfortunately, her father greeted the other side when she was 45. And while it’s been fifteen years since, not a day goes by where she didn’t think of him. As for her mother, she just turned 90 and was still kicking. 

“My parents were working class citizens, who worked their tail off to provide for us. My father actually worked at the same company with Evan’s dad. Then mine, Ronnie’s, and Maya’s mom were part of the same social circle.” Exhaling, Y/n tilted her head with a small smile, “I had a good childhood. One many kids would wish for---a loving family living in a nice house. Yeah there were times where my parents had to forgo a home cooked meal in favor of keeping the lights on one more night. Occasionally birthday presents were postponed until a month after our birth date. But, we were happy. We had each other, and that’s all that mattered.”

Taking a sip of water, Y/n cleared her throat while adjusting her position on the couch, the producer asking, “When did you first fall in love with music? You mentioned you guys would go to the record store and in earlier interviews how you guys' covered musicians on the streets of Atlanta--which evidently is how you were discovered. Did you always want to pursue the industry as a rock band or did it come as a surprise.”

“A little bit of both,” she answered honestly. Y/n thought back to years leading up to their discovery. Their small, humble setup with secondhand instruments they got from yard sales with saved up allowance money. Claiming a corner near the busy intersection of downtown Atlanta which was now known as Olympic Centennial Park following the 1996 Atlanta Olympic Games. Keeping their guitar cases open for when passer byers dropped coins or loose bills. 

Was it the safest idea? Not really. But it was 1978 and things were different. People left their cars unlocked. One could ask a stranger for a cigarette or a ride down the street without a second thought. 1978 was a memorable year as the year the Women’s Army Corps came to an end, the discovery of Pluto’s first moon, the first IVF baby conceived, and Harriet Tubman became the first African American woman on a postage stamp. Georgia opened the first ever Home Depot, and native Jimmy Carter was president of the United States. 

“Music was always there growing up,” she explained. “My parents collected records--my mother always had one playing when cleaning or cooking. Either that or the radio was on. For my seventh birthday I received a wooden harmonica and boy was it the best gift ever,” she hummed with a smile. 

She still had that harmonic. It was on a shelf in her bedroom, right next to the picture frame holding the tickets and signed program from the Elvis Presley concert she attended in 1976. 

“Any allowance or birthday money I got was put in my piggybank--which was then cashed in on a used 1940s Fender Esquire I got from a yard sale for all of $40. And before you say anything--,” she pointed a finger, “$40 was a lot back in the day even if it was used. Especially for a twelve-year-old.” 

Like the harmonica, the first guitar Y/n ever owned was on display on the wall where the rest of them were. Beside her legendary hot pink ‘Dirty Shirley’ Fender Stratocaster and Elvis’s 1960 Gibson J-200 famously used in his 1968 comeback special.

“Of course the dream was to be discovered, signed, make music and be able to say we got to live the dream. Even if it was for a short amount of time,” Y/n talked with her hands, “but it was a shock. Never did we expect it would’ve happened the way it did. I mean c’mon,” a playful left her lips, leaning forward to emphasize her words, “we were fourteen! High school was about to start for us and there was no way in hell my parents would accept me dropping out to go live life as a rockstar.” 

“Can you tell us about that day? How exactly did it play out?” 

Of all the questions the producer asked throughout the duration of filming the documentary with the Romantics, hearing them recount the day they were discovered was in their top 3. The crew saw how each member brightened, turning back into their 14-year-old self with the excitement painting their face. 

“It was my idea to cover ‘Cry Baby’,” Danny stated. “Y/n and Maya were set on ‘California Dreamin’,’ Evan wanted to fit in, ‘Superstition,’, and Ronnie didn’t give a shit as long as we made the most out of the day. But it was yours truly who pushed for Y/n to cover Janis. You’re welcome.” 

Ronnie would go on to say, “Danny and Evan did what they always did when a pretty girl stopped to listen; fought for her attention. Maya kept telling them to shut up and focus because it was the one day of the week during the school year where we got to go into the city to play. My keyboard had probably another month before I needed to replace it. Transporting it back and forth every week kept scratching it up.”

“I don’t want to say it was superstition,” Evan winked, a nice call back to the song he originally wanted them to cover in their set list, “But when I woke up that morning, I felt something--like it wasn’t going to be a normal set we’d had. There was a shift in the air the moment I put the guitar on and Y/n started belting ‘Fortunate Son.’ Maybe it was just me…I don’t know. But to this day, I believe the stars happened to align at the right moment for us.”

Maya beamed with each word, “Halfway through our set, a butterfly landed on my bass, and it was only ten minutes later that Mr. Mayhew found us. To me it was a sign--and why my bass always has butterflies on it. Afterwards we begged my brother to take us to Burger Chef to celebrate. Which ugh--!” She made a sound of longing, “Doesn’t even exist anymore! God the days where I could get a burger, fries and a shake for less than a dollar.”

“It was like any other weekend,” scratching her jaw, Y/n remembered every detail of the moment she and the band were approached by the music producer. “It was Saturday, middle of May and already scorching hot by mid-afternoon. We were a week away from the last day of junior high. Maya’s older brother would take us to our usual spot on his way to work and pick us up at the end of his shift.” Y/n bit back a smile, thinking about the big juvenile crush she had on him. Probably because he had a car and job, which back then was an attractive thing for any guy. It never went anywhere of course, and the two stayed friends--attending each other's wedding years later. 

“Every week we’d plan a set list of songs, both covers and ones I wrote. If we ran out of songs before Maya’s brother got off, we’d either call one of our parents to pick us up or continue playing whatever song we felt like. I was intimidated, to say the least, when it came time to cover ‘Cry Baby.’ So I mentally went, ‘fuck it, just do it,’ and poured my entire soul into singing. When I finished the adrenaline kept pumping, and I barely registered the suited man walking up with a business card and telling me to, ‘have your parents call this number. You kids have talent that only comes once in a lifetime. I wanna help you share it with the world.’”

For the next hour the producer relayed the questions and Y/n recalled the years between 1979 and 1989. Their first decade as a band was filled with success and hardships. The launch of their debut single and album. Appearing on Johnny Carson and SNL, being the third music video to ever play on MTV and winning their first Grammy. We Are the World with Michael Jackson, collaborating with Duran Duran, Eurythmics, and Diana Ross. The international tours, the rumors of Danny and Y/n’s addiction--which were false, tense moments where someone nearly quit. The lawsuit against a producer who was cheating them out of money.  

It was tough. But they pulled through. 

“1989 was a memorable year,” the producer began, a knowing smile on her lips. “Not only for the band….but for you, Y/n. 1989 was the year you met Pete Mitchell.”

To say the heat in her veins rivaled that of a volcano on the verge of exploding, was an understatement. The confident, playful, rockstar reduced to that of a shy schoolgirl falling in love for the first time. 

“Yessss,” she bit her lip, glancing away from the camera to hide the grin, but it was to no avail. It stayed on as she returned her attention forward, “That’s right.” 

“We’re gonna bring Pete in soon, but like your bandmates we want to have you talk about your relationship before sitting you both down for the next portion of this interview.” 

“Of course. What would you like to know?”

“Well, to begin, can you tell us how you and Pete met? It was after you performed at the Staples Center, correct?”

“Yup. August 15, 1989, at what was once called Club Electric Idol, known today as Melvin’s Planet Enterprise in Los Angeles. We finished our gig at the Staples Center and decided to hit up a club to end the night. Electric Idol was not far from our hotel.” The blue strobe lights flashed in her mind, followed by the image of a young Pete, Ice, and Slider walking up. His hair perfectly styled, bomber jacket and aviators on. Y/n chuckled, “I don’t know how long we’d been there, but next thing I know this guy is tapping my shoulder to ask if he could take a moment of my time. At first I expected another drunken pick-up line, but Pete shocked my core when he and his friends started belting, ‘You’ve Lost That Lovin’ Feeling,’ in the middle of the bar. Maya looked at him like he had two heads,” the giggles were now loose. Y/n unable to contain them. 

“I think Evan joined in,” a cough escaped, the woman shaking her head, “Pete was unlike any man I’d ever met. And considering I married the guy,” flashing her left hand, the diamond ring sparkled. “It’s safe to say he successfully wooed me with his beautiful rendition.”

The producer laughed with the rest of the crew, “Shall we bring him in then?”

“Ready when you are, baby.” 

Signaling the assistant, the young man raced out before returning a short moment later with Pete in tow. The pilot shyly waved to the guest, but instantly lit up when his eyes landed on Y/n. Nerves disappear with the relaxation of his features.

“Hey, hot shot.” 

“Hey there, songbird.” He took his place beside her on the couch, leaning back when the PA attached the mic to his shirt. “How’s it been going?”

“Perfect,” she replied with a smile, moving closer which then prompted their dog Ice to join them on the couch. Goose changed his napping spot to in front of Pete’s feet. Bella stayed on her bed. “Will Bradley manage the car on his own, or is he taking a break?” 

Pete reached down to give Goose a pat on the head, brushing his hand down his back to get rid of the shedding hair, “He’s heading to go shoot hoops with Jake and Payback. Said he’ll be back for dinner.”

Shuffling through her papers, the producer spoke into her headset before facing the couple. “Okay for this segment we’re gonna ease our way into the topic of relationships and maintaining them in this industry. Say whatever you’re comfortable with--we’ll edit out anything you might want cut in the final production.” 

Pete lifted a thumb, “Cool.” 

“Pete, before you came in Y/n was telling us about the night you met,” Red coating his cheeks in a flash, the pilot making a sound of embarrassment. 

“Oh God.”

Y/n giggled, pressing a kiss to his cheek. “Oh stop it, you were the star of the night, Pete Mitchell.”

“Can you explain what prompted you to approach Y/n? You were with your friends, having just attended their show hours prior, on vacation. What outcome were you hoping to come out of it?”

“To be honest with you I wasn’t exactly thinking of the outcome,” Pete, still red as a tomato, stared into the camera with a pleading look as if begging the eventual audience to believe him. “My buddies and I had this thing where when we saw a pretty lady we’d say, ‘She’s lost that lovin’ feeling,’ which was code for, ‘Please help me impress her.’ I’d only done it a few times before Y/n,” Briefly glancing at her, Pete chuckled as he recalled the words he told her, repeating them to the camera, “The first time crashed and burned. The second one got me a date, and the third….third time's a charm.” 

The next few minutes the couple went back in time. Remembering it all like it was yesterday. Afterwards Pete spoke of their first date, how he asked Y/n to be his girlfriend and the reality of going public with their relationship.

“I knew what I was signing up for when I fell in love with Y/n,” with his hand placed on top of her knee, Pete started to caress the area. The leather of her pants smooth against his thumb. “We had high demand jobs. Sometimes I couldn’t get in touch with her per my missions' orders. Her schedule was constant. But when you love someone, you make the time. You show up when it matters. I made sure to be at every major performance. Called every week--I once drove around Reno for hours trying to find a working payphone so I could wish her luck before she took to the stage. Sent flowers to her dressing room--which in the beginning was damn hard because the security thought I was a crazed fan.” 

Y/n continued, but not before laughing at her husband. “Whenever we were on break from recording or tour, I’d go to whatever base Pete was stationed at. He’d take me to the hangar and show me all there was to Naval aviation. I would say more of what we’d do, but I don’t want him getting in anymore now that he’s retired,” a sly wink was sent to the camera, both adults giggling as Mav brought a finger to his mouth, ‘shhhh.’

“Now, Y/n, during the final show of the band’s reunion tour you revealed that the rumored break up between you two before you got married never happened. How did you manage to keep such a big secret like that all these years?”

“A great publicist, not going out as much when we had time off and learning the art of deception.” Of course that last one was a little lie. In reality, they were lucky it all worked out the way it did. That people, specifically reporters and paparazzi, started to leave Pete alone. Toning down their stalking of the poor guy. Plus the band’s and Y/n’s personal publicist, with the consent of everyone involved, planted seeds of her romantically linking to other high-profile individuals. Like Paul Rudd during his early years of fame, and Ethan Hawk.

“Things at my job were becoming unstable with the amount of attention I got being Y/n’s partner,” Pete explained. “My superiors were concerned with sending me out after an incident where a fan tried following me to the hangar. Now at the time, this was before September 11th, you could drive onto military installations, but there were still certain areas restricted to only personnel. This fan attempted to breach the restricted area, then there were times the paparazzi photographed me in places that were confidential.”

“So we staged a break-up,” Y/n threw her hands up, letting out an irritated sigh. 25 years later and it still bothered her how invasive people could be. Especially with Pete, her man. Compromising his job, and potentially his life.

She’d raise hell. 

Shaking her head, the rockstar went on to say, “It worked, thankfully. Got the paps and weirdos---yes I am the type to call obsessive, stalking fans weirdos,” her eyes were fierce, staring into the soul of the camera. 

Well, the soul of the audience watching.

“There are lines, people. Boundaries. Ones that should be respected. Yes, I’m aware what it means to be a public figure and therefore my life is an open book half the damn time. But seriously, that doesn’t give permission to stalk the lives of my loved ones. Hell!” she slapped a hand on her thigh, “Even when we first started out….we were kids. We should not have had to constantly watch our backs for people who might want to harm us. Or scare us for that matter.” 

They continued discussing the subject for a brief period. Followed by the events leading to their engagement and marriage. The wedding had been the talk of the year when it was announced. Y/n wore custom Chanel, Pete in his Dress Whites. An intimate ceremony with their friends, family, Pete’s superiors, and few members of the music industry Y/n grew close to. Dolly Parton, Diana Ross, Stevie Nicks, Michael Jackson, and fellow Atlanta natives TLC among the guest list. 

“You two have been together 34 years--married for 22. Maya and Evan recently celebrated 37 years as a couple--tying the knot in 1994. Danny and his wife have been married since 2000 and Ronnie recently celebrated 20 years with her wife. Pun intended, but it appears all members of Y/n and The Romantics found the key to life-lasting romance.”

“We did, didn’t we?!” Y/n clapped her hands in glee, lightly bouncing on the couch from the excitement. “I had never thought of that before, oh my gosh, that’s amazing!” Mav laughed with her but then had to calm down Goose who got up from the sudden noise and started barking. Making Ice, who’d been laying on the couch, get off to leave the living room. “I should write a song about that,” the idea came to mind, Y/n straightening up with an expression indicating a light bulb went off. “Oh yeah,” humming, she fell back against the couch with a content exhale, “I know what our next album is going to be. And I promise to put you on the credits,” she ends with a point to the producer, who appreciated the gesture with a grin and thumbs up.

“Looking forward to it.” 

November 10th, 2024 -- The Chinese Theater in Hollywood, Los Angeles, California. 

A block away from their Star on the Hollywood Walk of Fame, Y/n and The Romantics stood in front of the iconic Chinese Theater to the flashing cameras and screams of fans for the premiere of their documentary film, “Rock to Romance: The Story of Five Kids from Atlanta with A Dream of Rock n’ Roll.’ 

Already a success with the critics praising the direction, production, and the intimate, raw interviews of the band members, the documentary was a hit. The Atlanta premiere the week prior reserved for special guests and critics shot Y/n back in time to 1978. They were at Olympic Centennial Park, down the street from the intersection where it all started. Overcome with emotion, the frontwoman had to excuse herself from the red carpet early. Escaping to a bathroom where Ronnie and Maya found her, the trio embraced in a hug with no words needed to understand the message. 

They lived their dreams. They were icons of Rock and Roll.

Now at the Hollywood premiere, Y/n was more relaxed. At ease with the environment. Reporters of major news stations and entertainment media waited patiently for their turn at interviewing the band. Celebrities from every industry one could think of attended. Many of which were fans themselves and had the honor of calling Y/n and The Romantics their friend. Directors Baz Luhrmann and Greta Gerwig--both secretly competing to direct the group's biopic. Georgia natives that couldn’t make the Atlanta premiere: Usher, Walton Goggins, Dakota and Elle Fanning and Gladys Knight. Actors including Robert Downey Jr., Jack Black, Chris Tucker, Meryl Streep, and Michele Yeoh. Professional dancer Derek Hough, who’d been Ronnie’s partner on Dancing With The Stars. Supermodels of the 80s and 90s Cindy Crawford, Tyra Banks, and Iman. Then there were some athletes like Rafael Nadal, Carl Lewis, Michael Jordan, Venus and Serena Williams, and Mary Lou Retton. 

And of course, you can’t forget the rockstars. Members of Duran Duran, Cheap Trick, U2, Guns N’ Roses, Journey, Blondie and Def Leppard. Cyndi Lauper, Janet Jackson, Pat Benatar, Annie Lennox, Stevie Nicks, Joan Jett, and Pattie LaBelle. 

Fans lined the streets, screaming each time a car rolled up and finally exploded the moment all five members were together. 

Y/n stood in the middle, Maya and Ronnie on either side, Evan next to Maya and Danny beside Ronnie. The ladies appeared as walking Goddesses in custom Dior and the fellas stunning in Louis Vuitton. They posed for the array of paparazzi and fans. Doing their best not to squint as the ongoing flashing lights blinded them. Ronnie cracked jokes; Evan flirted with Maya to get her blushing. Danny, like always, gave his blue steel.

 And Y/n? She was just happy to be there. 

Searching the crowd for her husband and invited guests, the rockstar was relieved when they finished the red carpet portion of the event. Beelining to Maverick, accompanied by the group of dagger ducklings she loved dearly. “I’m so happy you guys made it!!” Embracing each one of them, Y/n moved to Pete’s side once placing a motherly kiss to Rooster’s cheek. 

“We wouldn’t have missed this for the world, Y/n,” Natasha told her, the guys echoing with approval. She was wearing vintage Oscar De La Renta. A gift from Y/n when she made Commander. “This is insane,” she awed, motioning to the scene around them. The carpet was still underway with stars, the countdown to the film minutes away. “And here I thought nothing would compete with the Hall of Fame induction.”

“Speak for yourself, Trace,” Jake, handsome as ever in his Tom Ford suit, spoke from behind. “I for one knew this premiere would have a larger turn out. I mean c’mon, it’s all everyone’s been talking about since March.” Rolling her eyes, Natasha turned back to Y/n, who was biting back a laugh at the two. 

Rooster, out of his typical Hawaiian shirt and instead nicely dressed in a custom Ralph Lauren tuxedo, stepped forward. “I guess I’ll be the first of these clowns to say, congratulations to you and the band, Y/n on this amazing film. It’s been an honor watching it unfold, and we’re excited for what comes next.”

“Aw, Bradley,” she holds back the tears this time to not mess up her makeup, but pulls him into another hug nonetheless. “Thank you. It means so much to us--and I’m so grateful to have you all here. To be part of this journey. Supporting me and Pete, the band and just everything.” 

“No tears,” Reuben, also wearing Ralph Lauren, playfully scolds. “Can't be messing up that pretty face when you have a speech to give in front of a theater full of Hollywood hot shots. Save that for the party.”

“Please,” she scoffs, returning the manner, “I’ll be too drunk to cry. I might be 60, but I can still hold my liquor.”

“Planet Enterprise, right?” A Gucci wearing Javy raises a brow, making finger guns. 

The rockstar winked, “You know it.”

Ten minutes after passing time with small talk, the group were ushered inside where Y/n quickly returned to her bandmates for the speeches and introductions of the doc. Managing to keep it together, Y/n thanked her family, friends, Pete, the crew and production company for dedicating the time and energy to making the documentary, and of course her best friends on stage. 

The four individuals who were the only ones on the planet to relate to everything Y/n experienced in the world of rock n roll. 50+ years of friendship. Seeing each other at their best and worst. Accomplishing milestones together. 

They were more than a band. They were a family.

Finally the lights turned off, the screen went white, and the reel began rolling. Opening with the image of Y/n on her living room couch. The image of a woman, who was once a young girl with dreams of playing her Fender Esquire on the stages of Madison Square Garden and the Staples Center. Possessing the voice of an angel who broke away from God to become a rockstar. 

“If you could travel back to 1978 and give your fourteen-year-old self advice for the road ahead, what would you tell her?”

“I’d tell her……don’t lose that dream, little one. You’ve got the journey of a lifetime waiting for you.” 

...............................................

TGM Tag List: @avaleineandafryingpan, @caitsymichelle13, @poppyalice2001, @cutelittlepotatofry, @luckyladycreator2, @americaarse , @elenavampire21, @back-tooo-black, @wildellaa , @artemissunn , @pinkpantheris , @kmc1989

[cavernofdragons]

i bang my head because the only thought i have is “mmm but what if this song went with [insert character here]”

[bumblingbabooshka]

The sentence “Mark Johnson and T’Pel are here again, sir” becomes every Starfleet admiral’s worst nightmare.

[sexbot300]

18+, minors dni! (being a slut for nanami bc honestly who isn’t)

authors note: hello! this is my first-ever post, i hope you guys enjoy it! (I literally have no idea how layouts work yet, bear with me)

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sugardaddy!nanami who scolds you whenever you feel as if you’re “doing too much,” with all the lavish gifts he gives you. nothing is too much for his angel.

sugardaddy!nanami that asks which jewelry set you like best. emerald or ruby? ah. how about both?

sugardaddy!nanami who you thought would be a joyless, serious man as people portray him. they’re not lying, he really is serious, to people that aren’t you. you’ll witness a soft side of him that only shows the most gentle of smiles.

sugardaddy!nanami who gladly scoops you up bridal style in his arms, walking while you burry your head into his chest.

sugardaddy!nanami who unpacks the gifts he gets you on the countertop after a business trip. “kento, baby, you shouldn’t have.” you play with the polyester ribbon while he simply leans back on the fridge opening up a beverage. “I couldn’t help but have the prettiest woman in the world waiting for me at home. it would be embarrassing of me to show up empty-handed.”

sugardaddy!nanami who for the first few times that you went out with him, meticulously kept track of the things you called “cute” and noted wherever your eyes wandered for a minute too long. the next morning you woke up with everything you ogled your eyes at decorating your room. attached is a note that read, “please forgive me, sweetheart, I didn’t know which you liked best. p.s. my sincerest apologies again, I let my own thoughts get carried away. be good for me and wear this tonight.” your fingers gingerly held onto the note, until your eyes fell on two things you don’t remember looking at when you went out shopping. a beautiful silk gown and an expensive lingerie set.

sugardaddy!nanami who will gladly kneel to strap your heel, placing a kiss on your ankle, after trailing his hand up and down your shin.

sugardaddy!nanami who sends you a monthly allowance for your hair, nails, skincare, and whatever you desire.

sugardaddy!nanami who thinks indulging in materialistic things is futile, but he wants to see you decorated in every fine piece of fabric, clothing, and accessories.

sugardaddy!nanami who acts as if he’s unbothered by you curling up on his lap while he types away on his work computer. you couldn’t even tell how much he adores every second of this as he idly types away. he loves to have you pushed up on him all the time, the minute you slightly move? a strong hand is placed on your thigh or waist to prevent you from leaving.

sugardaddy!nanami who’s only condition is to continue this dynamic until you’re unhappy or want nothing to do with it. (you literally want to marry this man but okay).

sugardaddy!nanami who has a saturday night ritual with you where you buy the most extravagant of desserts and feed it to each other. oh yeah, you have to be sitting on his lap the entire time while you both feed each other from the same fork.

sugardaddy!nanami who places his nose on the nape of your neck while you’re seated on him as he sharply breathes in your scent. “as much as I enjoy eating sweets with you,” he said in a whisper, “they could never mimic your taste.”

sugardaddy!nanami who started off paying your rent, bills, and utilities which he felt mentally, secretly disgruntled by. not because he’s paying (duh) or he has to take care of you, it’s just the fact you haven’t moved in with him yet.

sugardaddy!nanami who considers you under his care and deems your wellbeing as his responsibility. you’re hurt? point to where. your body is sore? lay back down while he massages you. you’re hungry? food is being sent over and here’s money for grocery shopping. you’re upset? he kneels down in front of you as he attentively listens to your sobs.

sugardaddy!nanami who supports your hobbies. he’ll drop off little things that he knows have to do with your interests and only says, “you like this don’t you?” you name drop pilates, cooking, art, knitting, whatever it is, he signs you up for the nearest classes.

sugardaddy!nanami who actually notices if you did something different with your hair, if you wore a new shade of lip gloss. little things.

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sugardaddy!nanami who places the most tender of kisses onto your forehead like he didn’t wreck your shit a second prior. “such a good girl… i’m so so proud. taking my cock in so well.”

sugardaddy!nanami that plays with your body in subtle ways. hands? his big, veiny fingers are stroking yours gently. thighs? constantly getting gripped. your waist? a strong arm wrapped around it. your cheek? a thumb stroking it. shoulders? relieving tension from it. collarbone? rearranging your necklace so it lays properly. guts? fucked out of place. makeup? smeared all across his luxurious bedsheets. lips? blown out from sucking his monster cock and making out.

sugardaddy!nanami who rents out an entire summer beach house with a glorious view of the ocean. partially because he likes the privacy of you two alone, surrounded by nature, and romantic sunset dinners. also because he wants to watch you ride him while he leans back on a beach chair without disturbing the public. (nobody is allowed to see what’s his).

sugardaddy!nanami who actually pounded you into another dimension, your mind still in a haze while he carries you to the running bath. “stay with me princess, i need to clean you up.”

sugardaddy!nanami who makes sure you finish several times before he does. oh poor baby, you’re out of breath? would you like some water? we’re not finished yet. poor nanami didn’t get to cum once, and you so badly want him to use your body to do so.

sugardaddy!nanami who buys you a personal collection of sex toys to play with when he’s not there. he personally studies the way your body twitches and convulses with certain toys, he needs to know how to please his princess. sometimes he chuckles to himself because he knows deep down, nothing– no one, can please you the way he does.

sugardaddy!nanami who sees you stressed or crying over school and work and quickly replaces those tears with ones of joy.

sugardaddy!nanami who will have you folded like a damn lawn chair and only whisper sweet nothings while drilling into you.

sugardaddy!nanami who has a high sex drive but hides it in the beginning like the gentleman he is, making sure you feel comfortable and safe.

sugardaddy!nanami who gives you the car you’ve been wanting forever. you ride the car for a bit with him ecstatic, kissing him over and over, giggling. you both quickly found a new way to celebrate. you’re pinned down over the glove compartment, one large hand gripping both of yours as they’re pinned to your back, and the sounds of skin slapping with your loud moans mix in the air. “ke-n-toooo~ I-I don’t want to ge- uh! It m-messy in h-ere…” “don’t worry darling, I-” a low grunt comes out, “i always cum inside dont I?” he quickens up the pace only to have you screaming like a whore. “t-that’s it. just take it. It feels good, I know,” he mercilessly pounds into you, kissing your temple, “just come undone on me, that’s it. make me proud.”

sugardaddy!nanami who texts you to quickly come to the office and sends you a cab for an urgent “visit.” why? he’s stressed and his favorite method to cool down is your throat expanding around his girthy dick. he'll grip the strands of your hair while cooing at you, "i know angel, i know. but you look so beautiful right now, don't stop."

sugardaddy!nanami who groans from the stressors of his job, turning his attention to you while he pushes himself back on his chair. he looks down on his bulge before sighing and tugging his tie down left and right. “go ahead. come suck me off, i need it and I know you want it too.”

sugardaddy!nanami who does the whole pillow underneath, hand pressed on lower abdomen, with a vibrator wand abusing your clit.

sugardaddy!nanami who has a diet that consists of devouring your pussy on a regular basis. “b-babe… i- ah! s-slow down,” as you elicit a loud dirty moan that fills the room, “pleaaaase.” if only you knew he takes more pleasure out of this than you and you’re the one gripping his hair to the point of leaving his scalp red. he further pushes his nose into you, mumbling, “beg all you want, I’m not done.”

sugardaddy!nanami who is a gentleman, really. who will kill anything within 5 meters if it remotely threatens you. but he can’t help but admire the way your little cunt can’t fully take it the first few times together.

sugardaddy!nanami who never thought much of daddy kinks, but when he hears “daddy” slip out of your precious mouth, his heels dig deeper into the mattress, his massive body weight shifts crushing you, angling his dick in an almost sinful way while pressing you deeper into a mating press. “say it again.”

sugardaddy!nanami who watches you squirm with a vibrator jammed to your clit and his tongue lapping up and down your cunt like any separation from his tongue and your pussy will cause his death. “k-kento s-stop this feeli- ah! I th- oh god! I think I need to pee!” he can’t help but chuckle in his head. his baby never squirted before until now.

sugardaddy!nanami who secretly wants to get you knocked up. man loves fucking his cum into you. he has such a big breeding kink that you catch on.

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[tonycries]

A ranking of JJK men from best to worst during your period (absolutely no one asked for this):

Nanami - Are you kidding me? In what world would this perfect husband NOT be number one?? Doesn't even need that lil' app on his phone to track your periods, bro remembers. He has it mapped out in his brain AND on his calendar. You don't even have to tell him when it starts, he'll be home with chocolates, your fav movies, and enough heating pads to last a lifetime going, "Hi, my love, I hope m'not too early but I got you these." He's never too early. Never.

Geto - Bro has been through the whole process twice already with his daughters. He KNOWS exactly what's going down when you get just a lil' too sensitive, when your cravings become just a tad sweeter. Would lay you down and give you the most soothing massages whispering about how it'll "all be over soon" and "his girl can tough it out." 10/10 is so patient, even has a period tracker on his phone.

Choso - Y'know he's a lil' confused but he's got the spirit. Curses don't have periods so trust he'll be MAD confused wondering whether you've somehow developed the same jujutsu technique as him. When you teach him though, he's gonna be the sweetest babygirl. Let's you cuddle and use him all you want, throw him around to your hearts content until you have the perfect pillow!! Only minus points would be for that little intrusive thought in his brain that just wants to.....experiment......with his technique....

Gojo - Now, you'd be confused about who has the period - you or HIM? Which, honestly if distraction is your go-to then it works out pretty well. Every cramp you get, Gojo just hates to see his pretty baby in pain, so he'd be crying out. He'd be right there moaning and groaning along with you until you're crying tears of laughter because what the fuck?? Extra points because he's a sweet connoisseur and knows ALL the best places to get you everything you want. Trust, bro doesn't skimp out either he'd be diving IN to that Gojo Estate old money just to get you more than everything you need. Much more.

Toji - Now, hear me out it's not that man doesn't know what to do. It's just that he doesn't want to. Not to bully his cute girl, but does he really have to get out of bed and walk the treacherous block down to the convenience store to get you extra pads? Really? He'd much rather stay in bed cuddling you and kissing every inch of your face he could reach - seriously, his old bones are creaking at the very thought of moving. But, eventually, when you do bribe him with a dollar convince him to go, he'd be pampering you and more with your own money.

Sukuna - Bro definitely tells you to "just suck it back in wtf." -3878473 aura for him, but at least Uraume is on your side and gives him a good whack to the head. When he realizes a bit tho would be a bit softer than usual, at least he'll stop calling you his usual names after your sensitive self tears up at them. Mhm, definitely take him to try out a cramp simulator, though he deserves it.

[roturo]

⋆⭒˚｡⋆ SHE'S BACK!

GUESS HE COULDN'T KEEP IT IN, SO HE HAD TO KEEP IT INSIDE! ₊˚⊹♡ dilf!gojo satoru x teacher!reader

tags: smut, unprotected sex, breeding kink, exhibitionism, getting caught, he fucks you while he's on the phone, overstimulation, dumbfication, fluff, gojo has an ex-wife, yuuji is gojo's son, age-gap.

A/N: well, this was surely and adventure and maybe self-indulgent title because guess what?, i'm back baby.

It was a nice morning, he felt clean. Like his life was finally steadying. Even after some stressful weeks trying to get rid of his now ex-wife, he won the trial and kept Yuuji. Poor little boy, just turning 5 years old and he’s already facing all this type of stress. But thankfully he will not be experiencing enduring his crazy mother behavior. Which basically was a gold digger, and a bitch– Not that he would ever say that outloud, maybe with other words? Bastard? Witch? Not that it really matters right now.

He could finally take a break now, just focusing on raising his little boy, and being an old boring 31 year old dad. Life doesn’t sound that bad.

“Daddy! Daddy!,” His son went running to his arms, almost stumbling by himself- clear happiness shown on his face. Quickly, Gojo opened his arms ready to lift the young kid. “Miss Y/N congratulated me on my homework! She was pretty amazed!”

Your name wasn’t unknown to him, Yuuji was very open when talking about his favorite teacher, even though he hasn’t seen you yet- from what he’s been told you’re the kid’s favorite, including Yuuji’s. “I had to talk about who’s my hero, and I chose you!” If this day wasn’t going great, it was now. Because his son's comment just made his whole week, life even.

“Oh look dad!” The little boy pointed towards your moving frame, each time getting clñoser towards them. “Daddy, this is Miss Y/N!” Yuuji kept presenting the both of you. He was really excited to present his two favorite persons to each other- but all Gojo could think of what’s how young and beautiful you looked. He expected someone older, maybe even an old lady with wrinkles and that loving grandma vibes, but what he saw made his heart beat in a way he never thought he would feel ever more.

“Daddy? Are you paying attention?” The little boy gained Gojo’s attention back, face now looking at him again. “I’m sorry kiddo, kinda just zoned out there. What did you just say?”

“Uhh, what was it? Oh! Did I tell you Miss Y/N told me you were a very handsome man?”

“Yuuji!” His gaze moved towards your blushed face, a hand covering part of your face. “I’m so sorry Mr.Gojo, I didn’t intend to say-”

Gojo cut you off before you could continue apologizing “It’s okay, I also think Ms.Y/N is a very beautiful woman.” 

Uh, well. So this is how kinda you found yourself in this situation right now.

You swear it wasn’t your intention! You really tried, you really did, but how could someone say no to Mr.Gojo? And mostly because he really showed his attraction towards you. Sending Yuuji with a rose for you every day, and the little boy was rooting for his dad, because dear god- he did not shut up about him, and how happy he would be with a new girlfriend and maybe one he could call ‘mommy’ and give him a sister. 

That made you blush. 

Not only because the little boy commented on it, and was agreeing- but because it was his dad’s idea.

“You’re so wet, s-shit.” Loud thrusts filled the room, he was fucking you raw on his sofa– waiting for Yuuji’s mom to bring him back, the little boy was eager to come back and ‘see Ms.Y/N and his daddy finally starting to fall in love’

Kids being kids. But, he was right- the both of you were falling in love with eachother.

Gojo throws back his head, immersed in the warmth radiating off your walls and he lets your moans take him to another world. In a haste decision, he slips your dress over your head before tossing it. He mouths at your tits, plump and stiff between his lips, and he hurdles a deeper round of thrusts inside you. 

When you get a little too loud, his hand comes over to clamp your mouth, wolf like eyes staring back at you, “Shut it. You don’t deserve to speak.”

His thin white tee that stays a barrier between you and him does not hide the rippling body underneath that seemed to be sculpted by gods. He presses into you, grunting, using you like his personal sex doll and you embrace it, thrive from it, come to it. Your hips contract, slewing in perfect circles, before having your legs fall gradually lifeless as you arousal drip down your thighs.

“Ffffucckkk- oh baby, would you like that? Be full of me and my baby? Make me a daddy again?”

“yesyesyesyes, make me yours Mr.Gojo-” 

He pays your climax no mind,a smirk clearly showing on his face while he fucks you on his sofa- You could muffle your screams of pleasure easier here. Turning your head back to face him, you notice now he’s shirtless–taut and shiny from sweat like a large set of Hawaiian rolls–before seeing how quick he is to fit back inside you.

“Good girl.” His husky voice resonates and pushes you back into the sheets. “Good girls get rewards, don’t they?” Your poor fucked up mind couldn’t think clearly now. The way your abused and overstimulated pussy was still taking his rock hard cock gratefully inside you was making every feel giddy. A sudden noise bringing back a little part of your senses, Gojo clearly grunting grabbed his what you suppose phone, and answered. Not bothering to stop his thrusts.

“Yeah?,” His voice sounded almost like a whisper because of how breathy it was. “Gojo? I’m almost at your house- Yuuji wanted some ice-cream and bought some for you and… your new girlfriend?” His chuckle interrupted his ex-wife’s conversation, accompanied with a whimper at the feeling of you clenching on him- overstimulation clearly bringing you back to climax soon again.

A slap was heard from his part of the line, an unbelievable laugh coming from his ex-wife line, clearly noticing what was going on and then she finally heard you moan. You couldn’t keep it in anymore, and you were too fucked out to feel embarrased about it right now.

“Finish before I leave Yuuji- Enjoy yourself.” Gojo was so lost in pleasure that he didn’t even realize she hung up before he even processed what happened.

His grunts and sounds of skins slapping are all you hear as he pounds you back into the sofa. It feels like heaven beneath his weight. You were feeling flushed to the touch, but making contact with his skin was like an inferno. He was the embodiment of heat and as suffocating as that could’ve been, it melts you like it’s how it always should’ve been.

His pace eventually falters, followed by a hushed “fuck,” and he empties out into your used hole. The moment he pulled out, a knock was heard. 

“Shit. Can you walk?”

PART 2

[venjras]

MIND GAMES - EREN YEAGER.

screaming, crying, throwing up, i love this one sm. hope you’ll enjoy it too. nsfw : slightly exhibitionism, dirty talk, fingering, dry humping, use of pet names, mention of alcool.

you felt on top of the world tonight, you could feel the electricity running through your entire body. heading to the bar where your boyfriend was waiting for you with his friends, since you were early for your date with your bestie you had decided to stop by for a quick hi. after all, it had been a while since you had last seen the boys.

you would have recognized your boyfriend's dark hair from miles away, sitting with one arm resting on the couch, shirt unbuttoned and a bold smirk as he talked to the others. it still seemed unreal that he was your boyfriend. sigh, entering his vision and immediately gaining his full attention. his gaze was quite literally setting you on fire, making it really difficult for you to walk properly towards them. “oh, oh, look who's back.” it was erwin's voice greeting you, bringing you back to the real world. in the meantime eren had stood up, immediately putting an arm around your waist and stealing a small kiss from you. “hello, my love.” his deep tone ran straight down your spine, creating a flock of butterflies in your stomach that made it hard to breathe. trying not to show it, settling next to him, taking off your jacket and leaving it abandoned next to your body, leaving your fit completely expose.

a flowing mini skirt that reached just above your mid thigh, a black shirt tucked into it, extremely tight, mid-knee boots and as a final touch hanging from your neck was the necklace he had given you for your anniversary. shiny. “didn’t think you’d miss me that much, don’t worry it won’t happen again.” you said sarcastically, greeting levi, jean and armin sitting around the rest of the table. they all adored you and it was a mutual feeling, right from the start you had found a really good connection and after all they had turned out to be such precious friends for eren so it couldn’t have been otherwise.

speaking of the devil, he hadn’t taken his eyes off you for not even a second. his arm was stretched out behind you, his hand caressing the back of your neck. he always needed some form of physical contact, even small and this thing had always driven you crazy. it made you weak, slowing down any logic and rational thought. putting you under a spell. you were all lost in talking, chatting about the news and joking animatedly. after half an hour you glimpsed your friend and stood up to hug her immediately. the skirt had risen up a bit, giving a dizzying view to the dark-haired man who couldn't help but lick his lips. just enough to tease him a little. tonight you felt inspired, you wanted to provoke him and maybe end up bent over in the back of his car. obviously the view was simply reserved for him, behind you all was the wall and it was something calculated to perfection. putting on your coat, bending a little to greet him with a kiss and finding his hand on the back of your thigh, caressing the naked skin with his fingertips. “i’ll take you home, hmm? have fun, babydoll.” and so he let you go, your head spinning and your friend’s words sounding all jumbled together.

the hours passed quickly, between one drink and another, not enough to make you drunk but enough to make you feel lightheaded. however, the feeling in the pit of your stomach had not abandoned you, in fact it had only increased. now you were in the car with him, in the passenger seat, you two were driving your friend home. and once you were alone, silence had fallen, but it was a silence full of desire, as if there was no need to speak to know what was going to happen soon. very soon. “baby..” you turned your head towards him, reaching out to caress his hair, now tied in a small ponytail at the back of his head. “i really, really need you.” the words had come out fluidly before you could even think about them, your voice full of need, of desire. taking his hand, already resting on your thigh, bringing it even higher until it collided with the edge of your panties.

the car suddenly stopped, luckily you were on a not very busy street and almost immersed in nothing but pitch black so it was rare for other cars to pass by. in no time you were on top of him, his mouth attached to yours, drinking you up desperately. hands squeezing your ass, pushing you down on his clothed erection, making you feel how much the whole situation was anything but indifferent to him. moaning against his lips. starting to move your hips against his cock, panting as you felt how hard he was. “need you so bad..” your voice was needy, pulling away from him just so you could look at him with pleading eyes, thinking that you could easily come just by seeing him with labored breathing and messy hair, totally fucked.

now he had you turned, back against his chest and the car visor lowered so you could see yourself in the small mirror. legs spread, blushing violently at the thought of being completely exposed to his merce. “you wanted to play, then let’s play.” he said huskily in your ear, making you want to clench your thighs together in search of some relief but being stopped by his hands that kept them well spread. “eren..” your voice was begging him, lifting your hips slightly as one of your hands went back, squeezing his dark locks, not thinking you could resist any longer. you needed him to touch you right now. “what a messy girl.” he quipped at the way your thighs seemed to spread wider at those word, your impatience made him feel lightheaded. his fingers stroking softly along your wet folds through the panties’ fabric. his breathing fanned along your neck and his lips curled when you shuddered into him, drinking in the twitch of your thighs and the muffled whimper slipped from your lips when he collected your slick, trailing it up to ease the first roll of your clit.

he watched your hips twist under his touch, making him press down on the sensitive bud harder before he's finding a pace and rubbing at you with two fingers. your hands grabbing at his forearm with every sinful circle of his fingers against your cunt, whimpering needily against his body and it's almost like you're begging him not to stop, and that only drives him to press into you even harder, more eagerly as he get lost in the way your lips part to moan when he finally sinks his fingers into your pussy. penties finally pulled to the side. “so fucking wet, my pussy it’s always so ready f’ me." he groaned, his tone wavering with the weight of his arousal. he took a handful of your breast through your shirt, grinning when he realised you've decided to go out without a bra tonight, rolling and twisting at the sensitive peak as you whimpered. “such a dirty girl..” eren’s words were heavy, only making the slick between your legs intensify, making it easier for him to sink his fingers into your tight walls, pressing them against the swollen, sensitive spots inside of you with every practiced twist of his wrist. your clit was getting puffier, more swollen with each graze of his palm against it and he couldn't help but pull out of your cunt to rub your slick around it. so so sensitive to his touch.

“e — eren.. ” you gasped, trying desperately to muffle your moans when you looked over to cast him a starry-eyed look, one that lured him in for a kiss that made the whole car spin as his other hand rolled your sensitive nipple between his thumb and forefinger. drinking in your next languid moan of his name, licking into your mouth with such an intensity that made you gasp.

“that's my girl, fuck — ” your thighs trembled around him, breaking apart from the kiss wetly to let your head fall back against his shoulder. he kept up his movements, sinking his fingers into your clenching walls with every few swipes just so he could feel the way you were soon going to be squeezing around his length. letting you ride out your orgasm as you grabbed at him and your hips twisted and jolted with every rub of his fingers as they pulled back to roll your clit, prolonging your blissful state until you were pushing him away with a whimper and breathless pant. but he was breathing heavy from where his chin was pressed into your shoulder, grazing his lips along your jawline when he tapped on your clit. chuckling at the way the tiny aftershocks made you jolt before he gently tapped on your thigh.

you just could never win with him, you would always end up at his feet in the end. not only metaphorically.

©️ venjras.

[hoshigray]

I love your work so much and it makes me feel a certain way <33 BUTT im here to request something that I've been looking for 🤞🏽

Toji x Fan-Fiction-Writer ! Reader? I'll get on my knees if required 🫶🏽

𝐅𝐢𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐓𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐃𝐢𝐜(𝐤)𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧!! | tōji fushiguro

𝐒𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: You know, some things are just not meant to be shared, such as fanfiction writing. And how the hell did your boyfriend, of all people, come to be the one to question you about your hobbies? You tell me, you dirty little writer…

𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬: Toji x fem fanfic writer! reader - explicit content; minors DNI - modern au! - the reader is mid/late 20s; Toji's in his mid-30s - humor - fingering (f! receiving) - oral (f! receiving) - clitoral play (licking, sucking and swiping) - deep impact position - degradation (slut, whore) - use of "Daddy" title - praise + humiliation - spitting - cervix fucking - little bit of rough sex - unprotected sex (psa: wrap the willy; don't be silly) - pet names (baby, cupcake, good girl, mama, princess, sweetheart, sweetie) - aftercare; taking a bath together - usage of a phone; erotic literature/writing - Toji teasing you to no end, the bastard, lol - reader wears glasses cuz why not, hehe - mention of drool/spit.

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 5k (bless up)

𝐀𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞: bro. this idea cooked so bad, i just HAD to make a fic for it, lmao!! apologies for doing this months late, hope I did the prompt justice, and ty for loving my works~☆

“Nooo, stop, Toji, give it back!”

“Hold on, baby, hold on…Phew, who knew ya liked wrtin’ dirty shit like this? The fuck is ‘pet play—’”

“Oh my God, stop it!” 

This had to be, undoubtedly, the worst day of your life.

If there’s one thing every human being on Earth has in common, it’s their love for the weekends. They’re amazing — have two whole days to retreat and relinquish the turmoil and stress after five days straight. They’re the days when you can choose whichever activity you want to enjoy your leisure. 

Some people catch up on sleep, others watch a show or try to cook up a new dish, and some go outside and hang out with friends. But then there are those weekdays where it’s satisfying enough to spend your day inside the comfort of your home, delighting in a hobby. 

The hobby you chose to indulge in this weekend was writing. And right at this moment, you regret it being the activity you selected.

Why? For one, it wasn’t just any type of writing, like journalling or poetry. No, no; if it were, things would be easier for you to deal with now. Nope, it was fan fiction writing. The type of writing you’ve known since middle school and decided to jump in and try for about a year. What started as a curiosity turned out to be a hobby that took up your infatuation to the maximum level: writing pieces every night, taking up requests from your following over six thousand followers, and serving as an outlet to project your fantasies onto the Internet. 

What type of fantasies, you might ask? The type you read in a room by yourself or in the corner away from prying eyes, under a blanket with your phone exhibiting the dark secrets that corrupt your mind, or the type that only could be accepted on the Internet and not from the judgmental looks of those in the real world.

But, most certainly, not the type of fantasies you wanted your boyfriend to see!

“Toji, please, give my computer back!”

“Nah, hold on; I wanna see this…Oh, what a title; ‘Fuck Me, Rail Me, Use Me, Daddy—‘“

“TOJI, STOP!”

Perhaps writing fan fiction with your boyfriend occupying your apartment wasn’t the best idea. But you wanted to get a draft don’t by the end of this weekend, and you were almost done with it. You were typing up a storm in your bedroom, sitting at your desk while your man, Toji Fushiguro, was doing at-home exercises in your living room. 

And you could’ve sworn you had locked your computer before going to the bathroom. All you know is that after flushing and washing your hands, you opened your bedroom door to a horrifying sight: Toji, sweaty from his routine in his sweats and wife beater, holding up your laptop that showed the exact draft that you were working on! No, no, NO! You almost tripped dashing to take the device, but the older man was too quick and effortlessly dodged your attempts while still reading the material. And now you know why you are hopping around your room trying to catch the man and stop him from reading more of your stuff. 

Spoiler alert: your efforts were beyond futile, huffing and puffing in complete defeat on your bed. Your boyfriend was sitting beside you, still reading aloud while scrolling through your drafts, to your dismay. Your ears and cheeks harbored an unbearable heat that you could cry at any second, and you covered your face in case it were to happen. God, please kill me now! 

“Jesus fuckin’ Christ, how many of these shits have you written?” Toji inquires, his forest green eyes scanning every draft as if the list were endless. “How long have you been doin’ this?”

“For…a while.” You can barely muster the confidence to utter an adequate response. How could I have forgotten to lock my damn computer?!

“How long’s a while?”

“Uhhh, a…a year?”

The silence was pinching your skin enough, but you don’t know if you preferred it over the next thing he said. “Wow, who would’ve thought my sweet angel was a dirty lil’ thing writing filth like this?” Oh, you wanted nothing more than to crawl into a hole and die. You can practically sense the smirk on his stupid, handsome face, pulling the scar off his lip! And it hurts your being that he laughs at you grabbing a pillow to scream into oblivion. “What a horny minx.”

You removed the pillow to tell him off. “It’s not all my fault! Most of those aren’t even my ideas; some of my followers asked me to write—“

“Followers?” God, would it have killed you to shut up? “So you got people readin’ your stuff?”

Downcast eyes to avoid his surveying ones, “W–Well, yes…People like how I write, so I…..Write whatever they ask me.”

“Oh, wow,” raven eyebrows lift while looking at the screen, flipping through the notes of your drafts to your blog with your completed works. “So over a hundred freaks like how freaky you write.”

“Hey, d–don’t say it like that!”

“Oh really?” You didn’t like how he said that, nor when he pulled up one of your drafts to read. “… ’You spread your legs on instinct as she sucks on your chest, and the woman takes the initiative by sliding a hand down to your—‘“

“Stop, stop, STOP!” You sit upright and try again to take the computer away from him, but Toji swiftly moves to the bedroom floor. Fuck! It was hopeless, so you groan in exasperation. “Quit it, Toji; you had your fun, so give it back!”

He didn’t think so; finding something new about you made him curious to no bounds. And for it to be a bit of a suggestive side of you? Oh, how ashamed you were of him finding this out tickled him. “Damn, there’s so much on here…Have you ever written ‘bout shit we’ve done?”

You couldn’t believe he asked you that question — you couldn’t believe you were in this situation at all! Are you serious ”—ly asking me that?!?”

“I’m not hearin’ a ‘yes’ or ‘no.’” Now, this is just diving into a more profound level of embarrassment than you could handle. “Did’ya?”

“……………yes.”

“Wait, fr’ real?! Which ones?”

“I’m not telling you! Just give me my laptop—“

“Hell nah,” his elbow is strong enough to keep you at bay—how pathetic on your part being treated like a kid. “I’m curious to see what my lil’ sweetheart is tellin’ strangers ‘bout how we do our business—“

“I’m not telling them anything!!” You retort. “I-I just use our experience as a means of…references when I’m writing,” thumbs find themselves fidgeting together. “It…It helps when I don’t know how to describe a feeling, or….what it’s like during certain…..positions.” Was the room getting stuffy, or were you shrinking under the growing pressure of every word coming out of your mouth? Who knows. 

“Is there stuff y’ve written before that you’d like fr’ us to try?” Oh, for fuck’s sake, this was too much, bringing your –his– hoodie up to shield you from this predicament. And it only worsens when he stares your way, having you close up the hoodie by the drawstrings and collapse to his shoulder. Toji chuckles at your routing self, wrapping an arm around you. “Can’t even be honest fr’ a second.”

“Toji, pleaseeee,” whining doesn’t help, the older man moving the laptop out of your lazy attempt to retrieve it. “Give it baaack…!”

“Nnm, nnm, don’t wanna,” he places the device away to the ground and takes your hand with his. “Now I gotta read what weird shit you’ve been keepin’ ‘way from me.”

You shake your head frantically. “Please don’t! Don’t you think you’ve tormented me enough today?”

“Now, why would I ever get tired of fucking with ya?” The smirk on his face is still present after you open the hoodie to sneak a glare. “Shoulda thought ‘bout that and locked y’r laptop screen.”

“You’re such a fucking asshole…” his laugh at your words only proves your point, and you bury your face in his chest. This entire thing was so outrageous. How in the world were you this dumb enough not to double-check to make sure your computer was locked from prying eyes? What an amateurish move! Not even your closest friends know that you write fanfiction, so to have your boyfriend be the one to not only find out but bombard you with questions about your secret hobby is nothing short of humiliating. It can’t get any worse than this…

…Or so you thought.

“Hey,” you perk up to look at Toji. “You said ya got followers askin’ ya what they want you to write, right?” You nod meekly, twirling your thumbs with the bottom of your shirt. “Show me some.”

Appalled, you gawk, “Wh–why would I—”

“I know you have favorites from the hundreds I’ve been looking at for the past five minutes. So, are ya gonna show ‘em to me, or am I gonna have to read every single one to find out?”He didn’t show interest in returning the laptop to you even after asking the question. “Oh, don’t look at me like that, baby; I bet ya can look it up on y’r phone or somethin’.”

Your pout deepens in defeat as you begrudgingly stuff a hand inside the pocket of your leggings to pull out your phone to click on an app. Your thumb clicks and scrolls for a few seconds before you peer to him and say, “…I do have some favorites.” 

Jesus, it hurt to admit that to someone, especially with your him of all people, who is without a doubt getting an absolute kick out of this, the fucking bastard! This was beyond embarrassing; nothing could ever top this moment. Indeed, there is nothing else he could have done that could have made this predicament any worse than it already is. At least that’s what you tell yourself to cope because Toji’s grin on his face says otherwise. And what he says afterward makes your blood shift to ice.

“Why don’t ya read ‘em to me.”

Yup, you were killing yourself tonight.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

“Go on; read that short one fr’ me.”

“Ahh—…Hahhh, ‘Sitting here and thinking…about your faves…Mmmm.”

For some reason, this felt so. Fucking. Wrong!

You already knew it was a bad idea for you to read your works to your boyfriend at his request. However, to be fulfilling said wish in this manner? The mortification had your ears ringing a thousandfold. 

How would you have foreseen this yourself, face stuffed to the pillow with your phone held up by your right hand with your legs spread up and your bottom propped up? Who the hell reads like this?! And on top of that, your boyfriend is alongside you, his body behind you. The inability to see what he’s doing arises uneasiness in the soul, quivers sneaking up as you feel the rough pads of his fingertips greet the skin of your ass after sneaking inside the oversized hoodie. 

Breath hitches at the slide of your panties, coming down for his hands to grope the flesh wholly. “To..ji…” his name leaves in shakes. 

“C’mon, baby,” you swallow thickly at the cupping of your chasm. Toji chuckles at the twitch felt on his palm, “Read it properly, yeah? Word for word.”

Oh, fuck, your brows trench together. “T…’Thinking about your faves pleasing you from behind. He knows he has to tease you a bit—Tmmm,” his lightly hits your butt. “‘B-By massaging your ass with his strong hands,” he does so, kneading your ass skillfully that has you involuntarily purring to his touch. “…’Keeping you still and relaxed so he can later feel you with his fingers and—“ his forefinger and middle slowly come from your clit to the entrance, biting your lips. “Nhhmm, hahhh.”

“Go on,” Toji scolds, the middle digit sliding up and down with a faint push. Your back quakes to the touch, fingers gripping the pillow. “What else is y’r fav doing?”

You inhale. “Mmmm…’and circle one of them around to warm you up—‘“ spit gulped down again when Toji’s digit did the exact thing as told. “‘And then, when he knows you’re ready for him, he sneaks them insi—‘ Aaaiiii!” His middle finger is shoved into your vagina, and your toes instantly curl before he pushes the rest ever so slowly.  “Oh! Ohhh, fuck…’He…then comes to your shoulder and says to your ear to make you tingle…”

“…’Stay still, sweetie,’” woah. You were not expecting that; you were too focused on trying to read your words, and Toji bending to your ear to read his part wasn’t noticed at all. You only hope he didn’t catch the clasp of your vaginal walls around his finger (he most definitely did), hoping the soft chortle meant nothing. “‘Gonna let me make y’ feel good, yeah?’” Jesus Christ, his gruff voice relayed this so intimately to your eardrums that your heart was beating too hard.

Toji’s finger goes faster, nearly having you almost drop your phone. Your face smooshes to the pillow from the scrape of his fingertip, biting on the pillowcase as he puts in the other finger. He whispers to your ear to keep going; unbelievable…So you lift your head and try. “J-J…’Just thinking about how easy he could make you cum—Mmmph! Wi-With his fingersss…scratching and rubbing your insides so precisely until you’re practically begging to mess his hand up’…”

“Oh, fr’ real?” The perk of his tone makes you anxious. “Well, don’ mind if I do.”

The pace of his ring and middle finger increase, and you gasp sharply. The onslaught of rubs to your inner channel is enough to have your lower half writhe despite Toji keeping your legs grounded with his single one. Oh, fucking Christ, your glasses up to your smooshed cheeks the more you try to conceal your cries, proven to be trivial as the seconds go by. 

“Aww, whaddaya think y’re doin’?” He coos with a kiss to your nape; you nearly shut down. His free hand takes your phone, “Tryin’ to hide that cute voice of y’rs from me? Fuck that,” he then removes his digits from your chasm as you yelp and makes you flip to your back. Oh, fuck no! Your hands go to cover your face—nope, Toji is quick to move them away. “Lemme see you, mama…Now, let’s see what else you should read fr’ me.” He swipes your phone screen, “This too wordy, this long as fuck—goddamn, baby; you writin’ whole ass novels or somethin’?”

“Shut up,” you reply as your legs move, and Toji’s left hand removes your undies. 

“Ah, this one!” He hands you back your cellular device. Your eyes catch the first sentence, and your face morphs into dread before staring back at him to meet his grin. “Go ‘head,” he says cooly, spreading your legs by the knees.

“…’Picture this: your favorite coming to your room and seeing you on your bed and striding to you to taste you,” you inhale deeply at the blow of air on your wet southern folds. “‘He crawls up to you while you’re busy scrolling on the phone, busying himself with placing kisses to your stomach and down to your undies. He’ll then take them off and spread your legs for him, greeting your privates with his ton’—Ghhh…!” Toji licks your slit leisurely; you gulp at the muscle perching between the lips of your labia. “Hahhh, shit…’The smell and taste of you are so inviting he can barely keep it together, virtually inching to stuff his face with your pussy. He kisses it, lips petting your clit,’” he does so, and you chew your bottom lip. “‘Then his tongue goes excruciatingly slow to e-explore your folds,” your exhale is shaky as Toji’s tongue laps and swirls; fuck, I can’t do this…

The older man, on the other hand, flips a switch and goes to town. You knew this was a bad idea; if there’s one thing Toji loved doing more than fucking your cunt, it’s eating it out. He pushes your legs up by the knees for easier access, the angle perfect for him to propel his mouth onto your entrance. You shriek, his nose frequently grinding the hood of your cunt as his scarred lips and tongue suck and lick you feverishly.

“—Tahhh! Ohhhshit, no…!” You cry, throwing your head back to the pillow. “Ahhnn, Tojiii, stop…not too fast—Oooh!”

He spits, mixing his saliva with your slick as he laves. “Mmmph, shit, taste ’o good,” Toji pushes his face further as he sucks on your clit, and you nearly choke on your sob. “Yeah, yeah, let ‘em out; scream like a real whore.” You jerk, but his hands firmly keep you down. “Keep goin’, cupcake, finish y’r reading.”

“Khhh, God, I can’t,” you gulp when emerald eyes peer toward you. “…’Before long, he’s too overwhelmed by you that he can’t take it anymore, stuffing his face between your legs and having you cry out his name in prayers—your phone is no longer a priority.’” Jesus, you can hear his grunts along with the lascivious sounds coming from below; he’s so fucking turned on. “‘Now he has your attention, playing with your…pussy like a toy just to hear you squeak.”  

“Fuck yeah,” he groans as he sticks his fore and middle digits into you. Fingers go to and fro frantically, and your free hand grabs his raven hair. “Christ, y’ sound so fuckin’ hot. More, gimme more,” a long and harsh kiss to your clit makes you want to arch so bad. “Good girl, good fuckin’ girl…”

You hiss at the graze of your vagina; keeping your eyes open is hard to do. Lips go agape, and your noises fly out with no restraint. Your legs tremble, impending in a wish to close from the curl of Toji’s fingers. Your senses become too keen, your nerves heightening with every massage of your walls, lick and slurp of your slick and clit. 

“Ohooo, nhhmm, fuck, Tojiiii,” another suck to your clit has you grip the sheets. “Stooop, please; I’m gonna cumm…!” 

However, your boyfriend has another idea in his head. “Oh no, you don’t, princess,” his fingers leave you hurriedly with a squeal. He yanks for your phone once more to find yet another piece of yours for you to read, giving you so little time to recuperate. Until he scoffs with a smirk, “Ohh, read this one aloud next.” 

You take the device returned to you cautiously, scanning the first few words that catch your eye. Curiosity snaps to apprehension, “W-wait, no, please!” Begging won’t work, but it doesn’t hurt to try. “Please, Toji, look for some—“

“Aht, aht,” the click of the tongue shuts you. “C’mon, sweetheart, that ain’t what y’re callin’ y’r fav right now.” He squeezes your thigh, “What’s my name?”

“Toji, pleas—“

“Mm, mm,” he pinches you, a warning. “Try again.”

Excitement Nervousness flicker through your soul, breathing tardily as you muster to answer. “Sorry…Daddy.” The title burnt your tongue when it left your mouth, and the smile lifted Toji’s scar even more. 

“Good,” he praises. “Now read.”

“…One of my followers asked about writing a post about deep impact, so it’s—“

“Deep impact?” He questions while spreading your legs. “The hell’s that?” 

“I-It’s a, uhh,” you push up your glasses. “A position where you…kinda, like, sit on one of my legs and lift the other to your shoulder.”

Black eyebrows rise. “Ohhh, somethin’ like this, huh?” Sturdy hands find your ankle and lift your leg to his shoulder, and Toji then moves to have your other leg in between his. Your lips flatten when the groin of his pants—aka, the pitched tent–touches your hole. He whistles, “Oh, now I got a new favorite to add fr’ later.” His words aren’t meant to jest, so you frown as he snickers. “Alright, what did you write for this?”

You lick your lips; why? Toji uses his free hand to bring his sweats down, not surprised by the lack of underwear as his erection springs out. His cock is standing and ready for you, the precum oozing out alluring your eyes and your lip bitten by excited teeth. Of course, your vagina is clenching to a void—anticipation is a hell of a drug affecting your entire figure. 

“Don’t get too distracted, mama,” he caught you eyeing him, lifting the hem of his wife’s beater to bite down on. Your ears and cheeks scorched at the sight of his abs and torso. “Read those words.”

Your gaze flickers to your phone while Toji lines his dick to your entrance, a gulp at the kiss of his glans and your inner labia. “…’Daddy has you propped in a deep impact, a position catered to mutual pleasure and closeness. He taps you with the tip to have you excited, then slowly pushes himself into your—Mmfff!…y-your warmth,” reminding yourself to maintain a steady breath; Toji pushes his cockhead into your slick as you’re distracted. A few seconds fly by, and he slips right in; a gasp exiting your puffy lips indicates so. “‘H–He gently shoves every inch and stretches you out,’” his girth is lethal, your eyes rolling up the further his tip goes, scrapping your texture and your opening suiting for his length. “‘A-And, it feels so good to have him making you full and good’—Hoohh?!?”

That’s it, that’s what you were anxious about—you felt the jab of his tip on your cervix. You freeze instantly, too shocked to breathe as the hit was spontaneous. Your body locks down for a quick second to process what happened.

Toji notices your tightened grip and hisses, “Fffuuckin, shit…! So tight,” his hips go sluggish, and you feel his veins and shaft brush nicely with your insides. You sneak a glance at his flashed abdomen; the flex of his abs as he pushes his pelvis in waves is a sight to see–enough to put you in a trance. 

You continue. “‘His hip work is pleasuring, having you wail and cry out f-for more…the sensation of Daddy’s dick venturing inside and hitting your sweet spots is enough to make your toes curl—Nhhaaa…”

He can sense you gripping on him more; fuck, it feels so good. His thrusts go a little faster, forming a minimal medium. You exhale through your nostrils at the change of pace, and grazes against your walls become periodic and long-lasting the deeper he goes.

 “Daaah, ahhh, f-fuuck,” you whimper aloud. “Tojiii, y’ feel so g—Nnnmm!?!“ You nearly swallow your tongue from the sudden pound of him, the rub of your G-spot too abrupt to predict. 

“Who?” God, you know he’s getting a good kick out of this, the fucker. He pushes his cock to the hilt, and it takes everything in your power not to babble from the overwhelming intensity. 

“Daddy, daddyyy, don’t…!” Correcting yourself as his fingers dance around your unattended clit. “I’m sorry, you just feel so good..”

That’s more like it. “Good girl,” he bends closer, his knees spreading further apart. He pushes the leg on his shoulder so that the angle is plausible for him to rut harder. You shriek and squirm to his enjoyment, “Keep readin’.”

“‘Y-…You’re cries become more shameful the harder and faster he goes,” Toji stimulates for a harsher pound; another hit to your cervix has you winded. Despite your gasping for air, he doesn’t relent, and you jerk to undulate to another poke. “Sh-shiiit, Jesusss…! ‘He pistons so hard, so deep, it’s difficult even to think straight when all you can think is—‘“ a choked sob from a slow pull before a devious snap of the hips. “A-All you c–an think…Ahahh!” Another nudge to your G-spot; this is so hellish!

The culprit scoffs softly. “Think ‘bout what, baby?” He swipes and pinches your clit to have you jolt and whine. “Tell Daddy the rest.” 

Fuck, I can’t take it anymore! The phone slips your hand, barely missing your head. “Daddyyy, I can’t!”

“Why? What’s wrong?” Another pinch to the bud pairs with a poke to your delicate womb. Oh, he’s such a dick! “Don’t wanna read fr’ me?” He chuckles aloud at you shaking your head ‘no’. “Why’s that?”

“C-Cuz, if you keep going, I’ll,” a head thrown back at another nip on your clitoris. “Ahh, I-I’ll…!” Shit, you can feel it, the climb rocking your bones to entail your soon climax. 

“What? Ya wanna cum on Daddy’s dick instead of readin’ like a sweetheart,” don’t believe the words; his faux disappointment doesn’t match the merciless thrusts and the devilish grin. “Wanna act like a whole slut and cum on me?”

“Yesss, yes, pleasee!!” You don’t care anymore; you want to let it out. “Please, Daddyyy, I wanna cummm!!”

“Heh, what a nasty girl you are—Nnnmm! Fuck, just milkin’ me dry, beggin’ fr’ it, huh?” The same fingers he used to play with your clit come to your lips to shove inside, forcing you to taste yourself. “Go ‘head, mama; let y’rself go, be the slut you really are…Hahhh, shit, c’mere,” he grabs for both your wrists with his free hand after taking off your glasses and propels you towards him at the same time as he pounds. Holy fuck, this position was getting rougher, pulling you in and hitting your cervix with accurate hits that you’re whining and twitching. Fuck, fuck, fuuuuck! It’s too much, it’s all too much to bear, so it’s no wonder you climax in seconds.

You cry with the breach of your crescendo, your inner muscles contracting around the cock, hitting your womb. Your nerves are now peaked as the air is sensitive to your skin, and you feel so out of breath, everything happening all at once that you can’t keep up as you thank Toji in babbled prayers, still sucking on his fingers as your vagina flutters and coats him of your essence.

“Good job, cupcake,” he comes closer and removes his digits. “Can’t beat the real thing, right?” He cups and massages your cheeks before spitting into your mouth. 

You don’t even flinch, too fucked out to even care, just moaning to his lips as he brings you in for a passionate kiss as his hips keep going until he’s done and satisfied…

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

“Ughhh, I can’t believe I just did that…”

“Pfft quit whinin’. Don’t act like ya didn’t enjoy it.”

“I hate you so fucking much, you know that?”

“Whatever y’ say, Ms. Novelist.” You grumble at the name before he brings the washcloth to wipe down your neck.  

You and Toji were now in the bathroom, your nude bodies squished together, with the warm water cleansing you both. Hair and skin damp, your back meshed to his front as you sit between his legs. The soft yellow lighting basks the bathroom with a warm glow as you two bathe in relaxation, a needed state after the excitement prior. 

You snatch the washcloth before Toji wipes your face clean off. “Why did you have to be so nosy, looking at my laptop for what?” You wipe his arm that rests on the rim of the tub. 

He rolls his eyes, knowing he’s in for a lecture. “Well, if ya didn’t want me to see, shoulda locked the shit.”

“That doesn’t excuse the fact that you’re nosy as hell! Could’ve just looked somewhere else or left the room!”

“Hmph, well, when you see the words ‘Down and Dirty’ all bolded and big and see another tab with a pic of a rimjob, who wouldn’t stop—“

“Okay, okay!” It would be best if you threw the cloth at him for chortling; such an indecorous personality for someone supposedly older than you. “You’re insufferable.”

“Right back at you,” he whispers to your ear and kisses your cheek. You sigh softly from his lips, resting your head on his shoulder while he pecks your chin. The hand in the water finds your thigh to grope and massage, and you moan at the touch and unwind.

Tranquility fills the cozy space between you two as the silence settles in, the humid air comforting to your nose and eyes, and the drip of the faucet plucking into the tub water is a soothing sound to cajole you into a dormant plane. 

However, even when relaxing, it doesn’t stop the bothersome feeling of asking Toji something. And where better than with you in his secure embrace? “Toji,” his name has him open an eye to look your way. “You don’t think I’m…weird, don’t you?”

He raises a brow. “Explain.”

“Like, don’t you find it weird that me, your partner, indulges in hobbies that are…you know, like that,” now your eyes trail away from his gaze. “Writing about fictional fantasies and such, looking up erotic material and stuff…”

A few seconds fly as he scoffs. “Baby, I’ve been lookin’ at porn way before I met you—“

“Th–That’s not what I meant??”

“Besides, it’s nothing more than just writin’ shit that doesn’t exist. Hmm, if anything, now I know y’re just as big of a pervert as I am.”

Anxiousness transitions to peeve. “You are so—“

“Do you like what you do?” 

The question takes you aback; the immediate serious tone switch wasn’t expected. “…I..yeah.”

“Are ya hurtin’ anyone?”

“No…at least I don’t want to.”

“Are ya hurtin’ y’reself?” You see what he’s doing, the glint shining from his viridian orb.

“No. I…like this hobby.”

Finally, a small smile contorts that scar of his. “Then I don’t mind it. It’s what ya like to do, so do whatever, sweetie.” He comes to kiss your nose and rest his forehead with yours. “I like ya bein’ a lil’ weird anyway.”

“Jackass…” And there you go, falling in love with him again. You cup his cheek, kiss the other, and repose onto his shoulder with a blissful sigh. 

“Now,” you blink back to him. “Can’t lie, think you gotta start callin’ me ‘Daddy’ from now on,” like a scratched record, your heart stops, especially with his mischievous smirk. “Where can I read the rest of y’r stuff at?”

“That’s it,” you ignore his annoying bark of laughter as you try to squirm out of his hold. “Let me out of here, get me out of this fucking tub.”

“Haha, hey, quit it; y’re spillin’ the water!”

© 𝐇𝐨𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐲2024 – reblogs + comments are appreciated wholeheartedly ☆ header art by rororogi morgera + dividers by @/cafekitsune + @/animatedglittergraphics-n-more.

[racew1nn3rs]

─ 𝘴𝘤𝘦𝘯𝘦 𝘪. (𝘪'𝘮 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘰𝘸𝘯𝘦𝘳 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘴𝘦) 🧶

⤷ summary: the world meets the newest mclaren team member, and they are loving it! it's poor oscars first day and shit's already hitting the fan sorry dude ): LMAO. lando just experienced love at first sight, while y/n is ready to fist fight

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liked by landonorris, oscarpiastri, and 32,890 others

mclaren oscar's first day of kindergarten, done. pre-season testing, done. (we'll be even faster soon 🙏🏼 don't worry guys)

2,568 comments

user2 HELLO??? WHO HACKED THE MCLAREN ACCOUNT

user6 we'll be racing past redbull in no time

mclaren a girl can dream

user7 lando is this you??? 😭

user8 budget dropped so low they had to hire the drivers for social media

user3 this is haas money behavior

mclaren excuse you i am NOT LANDO

user8 oscar????

mclaren no sir, i'm the owner of this house 🫵

user9 idk if this is a new admin but this is so unserious

mclaren new year new me babe

user9 give her a raise mclaren 🙏🏼

mclaren REPOST REPOST REPOST

landonorris first day on the job and already asking for more money?

mclaren i'm so sorry lord lando, you forget that us lowly peasants aren't on an athelete salary 🙄

user10 HUMBLE HIM, WE LOVE TO SEE IT

user11 mclaren admin beefing with lando was NOT on my 2023 bingo card

user12 she really said, "ik we're slow but LET US COOK"

mclaren TRUUUSTTT THAT COMEBACK IS COMING (im manifesting)

oscarpiastri KINDERGARTEN??? i'm nearly 22 mate

mclaren teensy weensy baby basically

oscarpiastri your fired /:

mclaren HAHA YOU CAN'T DO THAT 🏃🏻‍♀️

user13 petition for all the f1 team accounts to be run by young admins, this is tooooo good

mclaren screenshotting this for my boss so they don't see these comments and fire me

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user14 she. looked. up. his. salary. 💀 ICON

user15 hiring her was such a rare mclaren W

user16 MCLAREN ADMIN HEAR OUR PRAYERS AND MAKE TIKTOKS 🙏🏼

user17 OMG CAN U IMAGINE

user18 HOW MUCH MONEY DO I HAVE TO PAY MS. MCLAREN FOR THIS OMG

user19 will our team win? probably not BUT AT LEAST WE'LL BE GETTING CONTENT 😘

user20 AYYYYEEEE

user21 LANDO MAY NEVER WIN, BUT THE FANS NEVER LOSE 🤞🏾

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liked by mclaren, maxfewtrell, and 60,050 others

landonorris don't mind me, just living my lord life on my athlete's salary. bahrain here we come!

10,750 comments

user22 WHERES THE MCLAREN ADMIN

user23 lando nowins flexing on us poor people

user24 someone come get this man's phone

user25 oh i KNOW pr is mad 💀💀💀

user26 daniel ricciardo leaves and mclaren loses it's mind

user27 daniel leaves and all of us lose our minds 🥲

oscarpiastri jesus christ mate, log out

mclaren i'm not sure he knows how, he might need to pay someone to /:

user28 CRAZZZYYYY

user29 THE GIRLS ARE FIGHTING

user30 "f1 is a serious sport." the serious sport in question:

user31 the papaya hat 🫵

user32 HE'S SO FINE IM GNAWING AT THE BARS

user33 BARK BARK WOOF WOOF

mclaren phones. on the table. NEOWWW

user33 holy shit this is actually so embarrassing

mclaren at least ur self aware!

user34 she clocked ur asses 😭😭😭

maxfewtrell lord lando flying economy

landonorris I AM NOT

user35 bro took that personally

user36 me thinks the man doth protest too much

danielricciardo i leave you alone for a few months and this is what you're doing

landonorris i learned from the best

danielricciardo DONT BLAME ME FOR THIS

maxverstappen1 ... that's my plane???

landonorris SHUT UP SHUT UP SHUT UP

maxverstappen1 you can't just take credit for my private jet. its mine.

mclaren this just in, little lando norris is a little LIAR

mclaren when he steals a plane and wears bucket hats 🫵🤣 everyone point and laugh

landonorris I QUITE LIKE BUCKET HATS

mclaren i quite like bucket hats 🇬🇧☕️🤓

maxverstappen1 🫵🤣

danielricciardo 🫵🤣

charles_leclerc 🫵🤣

carlossainz55 🫵🤣

maxfewtrell 🫵🤣

oscarpiastri 🫵🤣

landonorris OSCAR????

oscarpiastri 🫵🤣 🫵🤣 🫵🤣

mclaren damn he got you there

user37 this cannot be real

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There were quite a few things Lando expected to be on his agenda when he arrived in Bahrain after him and Max went seperate ways to their own teams. He figured he would meet with his engineers, spend some time getting adjusted to working with Oscar (especially given he hadn't had very much time to meet or bond with the rookie over the break or during pre-season testing), and doing some press interviews as per usual. However no where on his list was an impromptu meeting with Zak Brown. Oscar seemed clueless as to what was going on as well, and Lydia, Lando's personal assistant of two years, was just as clueless.

Lando and Oscar filed into the board room, bottles of water in hand, only to be met face to face with their team manager. Nothing seemed suspicious which Lando hoped was a good thing, but after their underwhelming performance in pre-season testing he knew anything was a possibility.

"Have a seat guys, it's good to see you both. I hope you've been well-rested since testing," Zak greeted with his usual cheerful attitude. Lando and Oscar looked at each other warily but nodded at their boss nonetheless. Zak was usually more of a 'get to the point' kind of man, so this change of pace was unnerving to say the least. Normally it scared Lando a little bit, but truthfully, right now, Lando wanted to be done with this meeting and to get to race preparations.

"That's good, you need all the rest you can get if we're going to try and put up a fight this weekend. In all honesty, I think within the next two years we have a chance to become real competition here. I think we can give Red Bull and Ferrari a run for their money and earn plenty of points this year. Hell," the older man chuckled, "maybe we can win it all."

Lando didn't want to seem skeptical, but he was definitely skeptical. He did not think the car he was given in testing could win the championship, but he would sure as hell be trying.

"But no matter how hard the engineers work the car, and no matter how many sims we do, the one thing we're lacking in is presence. McLaren is notable, we have a famous team and a long roster of famous, successful drivers, including the two of you, but we don't have the same dominating media presence that Mercedes or Ferrari do. And that's what gets us sponsors, and celebrity visits, and fans, and funding. We may not be struggling for money, but if you guys like your multi-million dollar salaries and you want your car to keep being better, we need more media presence. Which is why we decided we wanted to go a bit of a different route this year, with media and all of that."

Oh god. Lando knew where this was going. This was about the new social media admin that had been ruthlessly harrasing him- albeit teasingly- for days now. Only employed for less than two weeks and already stirring up the pot across platforms. Lando looked at Oscar, noting that his teammate was clearly following as well now.

"I know you both have come to realize this already, but there is a new social media manager who runs all of the McLaren accounts. We wanted someone young, someone trendy, someone who knew what the internet is looking for, and who can help us connect and start getting more eyes on McLaren. We want her to meet with you guys today to share a couple of ideas so you can be on the same page for what we'll be doing online. The new manager is just outside. Let me get her so you can speak with her."

Lando nodded dumbly. Right, ok, he could do that. Lando was young, he was online, he was trendy. Plus, most of if not all of the F1 drivers had some kind of media presence already. Lando streamed, he had instagram accounts and twitter, and he even had Quadrant. Lando steeled himself. This would be just fine. An adjustment, but fine.

Zak greeted someone outside of the door and a small bit of shuffling sounds were heard. Before Lando had a chance to stand, Zak was turning and nodding a quick goodbye. Leaving the office room, as a smaller body replaced the space he had been in.

Lando felt like the air had been knocked from his lungs and hoped he hadn't made a noise out loud. He stared, he couldn't help it. He was sure he was slack-jawed, mouth agape and flies coming in. Somewhere in the back of his mind he registered that he should be professional and behave like a normal human being. But the other part of his brain, the dominant part of his brain, was in awe.

Lando looked at the girl in front of him up and down, probably far too obviously, and was stunned. He saw jean shorts, a faded and a mid-washed denim. A colorful-tighter cropped shirt and some layered gold jewelery. Rings on her fingers. Sunglasses in her hair, making her look way to cool to ever speak to him. She rocked on the balls of her sneaker-clad feet- sneakers that matched her clothes perfectly much to Lando's delight- and quickly moved to set her laptop down of the table. She left her small colorful handbag on the table alongside a cup of iced coffee that was already melting in the Bahrain heat. She looked as if she had jumped straight from a Vogue cover (or one of his favorite dreams) and landed right in front of him.

Was it the heat that was making it so hot? Because Lando was becoming suddenly aware of the heat beneath his shirt collar. A stifled cough from Oscar drew Lando from his observation- or rather his creepy, stalker staring- and Lando realized this was not the social etiquette that the situation called for.

Before Lando could even take a step, the girl smirked.

"Nice to finally meet you guys. Hello Oscar," the girl leaned over and shook the taller man's hand. "And Lord Lando, is it? It's nice to finally meet you. I'm Y/N L/N, i'm the new social media manager for the season."

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Y/N could now officially say she is not a fan of Lando Norris. The online feud she had cleverly created to generate some conversation about McLaren before the season started had been banter. She had taken no offense to Lando's jokes at all, but now that she was in front of the man and could feel his judgement, her opionions had changed.

From the second she walked in Lando had begun unabashedly staring at her. Looking her up and down, from the shoes she had recently bought to the hair clipped back on her head, and was not sparing a single detail. She felt vaguely like a mannequin on display and it unnerved her.

Oscar smiled at her politely as she set her things down, and she felt thankful for the reprieve from the judgement and critcism she had been recieving since she arrived and was now experiencing again from Lando in full force.

Y/N was aware that her outfit wasn't uniform or professional, but those were not the qualities she was hired for. Y/N had been confident coming in here, feeling like she would likely connect better with people her own age, but was thoroughly dissapointed to find this was not the case.

Oscar ultimately cleared his throat awkwardly, and it appeared as though this finally snapped Lando out of his judgemental stupor, so Y/N decided to finally make her introductions.

"Nice to finally meet you guys, hello Oscar," she leaned over and shook the taller man's hand. "And Lord Lando, is it? It's nice to finally meet you. I'm Y/N L/N, i'm the new social media manager for the season."

Lando groaned loudly and Oscar laughed.

"Lando I don't think you'll ever live this one down," and Y/N forced a laugh and nodded in agreeance.

"No, probably not. But that's good, that's what I was hoping for." Y/N stated bluntly.

"You were hoping to torture me?" Lando stuttered out and Y/N rolled her eyes, "You'll live I promise." Oscar laughed before pointing out, "at least your not a kindergartener."

Lando stifled a laugh but agreed.

"What purpose did Oscar's baby jokes serve?" Lando asked, and Y/N forced herself not to punch the man at his judgemental tone. He clearly didn't believe in her ability to do her job.

"It's funny, that was it's purpose," she stated, gesturing to the table for the boys to sit as she opened up her laptop. She turned to face toward them, lifting herself slightly so was seated criss-crossed in the chair. She never had liked sitting normally. The boys across from her stared at her expectantly.

"So you create jokes the make people look at us more?" Oscar asked.

"In a way yes. My job is to manage the accounts, but I've also been hired to help get you guys more fans. Fans love to be interacted with, they love seeing you guys joke around, they like feeling like they have content to consume," Y/N explained.

"By playing into these desires, you get more fans, because they feel they 'know you" in a way they don't know the other drivers." The boys nodded their head in understanding.

"So the plan is for me to keep interacting with fans through the McLaren accounts, playing up jokes with you too, and for us to give the fans new content in a way they don't usually get it. Livestreams, youtube vlogs, inside internet jokes, TikToks, the works." Y/N stated.

"Essentially," she said dragging the word out, "I'm going to make you guys the internet's little papaya stars," Lando laughed but nodded. Y/N, despite her first impressions and her developing dislike for the driver, found herself smiling. She could see the vision. Both Oscar and Lando would be awkward and loveable and humorous. The perfect mix for internet support.

"So where do we start?" Oscar asked.

"I'm glad you asked," Y/N smirked. "Have you heard the clip of 'Cuffing Season' by SZA? There's a TikTok trend I think will be perfect for you to do."

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user38 can we talk about how gorgeous admin is?!?!? LIKE OH MY GOD

user10 only hot people go to mclaren

user40 that check better be huge for her

user41 oscar was so mf stiff 💀💀 free my boy

user42 who had a gun to oscars head, he was so scared

user43 lando thirst trapping ICB 😭 I NEED A BIG BOYYY

user44 god admin is so sexy and smart, that was art

user45 CAN WE DISCUSS HOW LANDO LOOKS AT HER

user46 ikr 💀 get off the floor lando your drooling

user47 i want a man to be that down bad for me

user48 lando loverboy era unlocked

user49 meanwhile admin didn't look him in the face

user50 f1 2023 is going to be a WILD RIDE for us mclaren fans if this is before the first race even starts

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hope you all enjoyed! please let me know your thoughts and feel free to leave a request for me to write something for your fav <3

-

𝙩𝙖𝙜 𝙡𝙞𝙨𝙩

@lemon-lav @slutforpopculture @m4rt10ne

[sttoru]

satoru loves loving you.

he loves taking care of you; giving you random gifts you don’t necessarily need; cooking you (half-burnt) food to make sure you eat at least a little something; hugging you when you least expect it, but need it most; reassuring you every time you’re anxious about something — even with the smallest of things that others would brush off and probably tell you ‘it’s fine’ or that ‘it isn’t that big of a deal’.

satoru also takes loving you quite seriously. he isn’t ashamed to admit how much he likes his lover nor does he care about what people think of you two as a couple. you’re the apple of his eyes; the love of his life. the only one who matters. therefore, it’s only natural for him to be a bit too. . . dramatic when it comes to showing you that he cares for you.

“satoru — love — i’m not dying. it’s just the flu.”

especially when you’re feeling under the weather: you’re sick? he’s double as sick.

“oh, my baby. my sweet, sweet babyyyy,” satoru sniffles as he cradles your tired body to his chest, his chin resting on top of your head. the devastation in his voice sounded like you were at war and had suffered a fatal gunshot to the chest.

it was nice to know that satoru truly cared that much about your wellbeing. also, kind of funny. it’s like he was (unintentionally) attempting to make you feel better about your situation — almost like he was trying to take your mind off the throbbing headache you were experiencing.

“sato—” “i know, i know—no need to talk. we’re gonna get ya fixed up, all right? hold on.”

your eyes followed satoru’s slender hands as they swiftly search the plastic bag he had bought home from the store a few minutes ago. he picks out a bottle which contains your usual painkillers and quickly takes out the recommended dose.

satoru pouts whilst grabbing a cup of water, though doesn’t directly hand you it over, “open up, princess. you’ll feel better after ya take this. trust me.”

all you can do is accept it. satoru’s going to baby you throughout your entire sickness, whether you liked it or not.

you part your lips and allow your lover to put the small pill on your tongue. he gently places the rim of the cup by your mouth and helps you swallow the medicine — praising you afterwards with a quick ‘that’s my girl’ — before helping you rest your head back on the pillow.

satoru does not allow you to move a single muscle when he’s around and you’re unwell. he insists to take care of you and to nurse you back to health — even if he has to skip on important meetings or missions. the entire world could be burning down and he’d still only think of your safety and health.

nothing in the world compares to you. no one and nothing ever will.

[freedomfireflies]

One Day*

Summary: An extra for 404*

The one where you still hate Harry, but turns out, you might be having his baby.

Word Count: 5.4k

Content Warning: 18+, smut, breeding kink, pregnancy kink, spanking, brief choking, slight angst (happy ending), mentions of pregnancy and babies! *Please be so gentle with yourself and only continue if you feel comfortable! 💞*

“I’m late.”

“For what?”

You huff. “I’m late,” you repeat, gesturing frantically toward your hips. “A week late. Which I know can happen, but…not really to me, so…I’m late. And I think we’re fucked.”

Harry blinks. Looks down at your stomach. Looks up at your face. “Oh.”

“Oh?” You rear back. “That’s all you have to say for yourself is oh?”

He lifts his left shoulder in nonchalant shrug before flopping down onto your sofa. “I don’t know. What did you want me to say?”

“I…I don’t know,” you huff. “I kind of thought you’d…yell. Or freak out or something. Or ask me if I’m keeping it.”

“Do you want me to freak out?”

“Well…no. Not really.”

“Do you want to keep it?”

“I…I don’t know, I don’t even…I’m not even sure if I am yet or not.”

“Okay.” He nudges his glasses up before crossing his arms. “Well did you get a test?”

You glance toward the pharmacy bag still sitting on your kitchen counter. It’s been mocking you ever since you picked it up. Staring you down, sticking out its tongue. One, tiny little box that’ll determine the next chapter of your life. It’s almost infuriating. 

“Yeah,” you mumble. “I, um…got one on the way home from work.”

“Okay. Have you taken it yet?”

“Not…exactly.”

His brow raises. “Do you…need help or something?”

You scowl. “It’s peeing on a stick, I think I’ve got it covered.”

“Yeah, well, knowing you, you’d find a way to fuck it up.” He smirks. “Sure hope our baby gets my brains instead of yours.”

You grab the pillow beside him and give him a firm whack. “That’s not funny.”

He laughs as he winces. “Good. I wasn’t being funny.”

“Then, stop it. And stop being so calm.”

“You just said you preferred calm—”

“Well…it’s scaring me now. So what gives?”

Another shrug. “I don’t know. I just don’t really feel the need to waste a reaction on something we don’t even know is happening yet. Take the test and then I’ll freak out if you’d like.”

“You say that like someone that’s had a lot of pregnancy scares.”

He snorts. “No, I say that like someone who knows freaking out won’t exactly help you right now. So just take the goddamn test, Tinkerbell. And we’ll go from there.”

Unamused, but somehow slightly comforted, you oblige and snatch the box from the table before retreating to the bathroom.

Once the timer has been set, you slowly make your way back to him.

He’s still sitting on the sofa. Calm. Unaffected. Watching you without a care in the world. Like his whole life isn’t about to change. 

It drives you nuts.

“Five minutes,” you tell him.

He nods.

Warily, you sit in the chair to his left, staring holes through your shoes as your heart races inside your chest. You’re not sure how you got here. Not sure where you could possibly go. You aren’t ready for a baby. Not…yet. Especially not one with…him.

“Hey,” he calls, pulling your attention up. “S’the matter with you?”

Your eyes narrow. “What the hell do you think?”

Another casual shrug that makes your teeth grit. “I thought you’d be happy.”

“Happy?” You lean back. “Why on Earth would I be happy about getting stuck with your DNA for the rest of my life?”

He smiles. “I don’t know. You just seem like the type of girl to want a lot of babies.”

You scoff. “Well, sorry to disappoint you, but I am not.” You don’t think.

“Really? Is that why you begged me to breed you?”

“I didn’t actually mean it. That’s just what you say in a moment like that.”

His eyebrow raises.

You hesitate. “Did…did you mean it?”

“Kind of,” he admits. “I mean, yeah, maybe I didn’t mean right this second, but…I don’t hate the idea.”

“You actually want to be a father?” You snort. “Bullshit. You hate kids. I’ve seen you.”

“I don’t hate kids, I just don’t care about them when they aren’t mine.” He throws his arm over the back of the chair and smirks. “I like my nieces, though. They’re chill.”

You blink. “You…you have nieces? Wait, you have siblings?”

“Yeah. One brother. He’s got two kids and they’re cute as shit.”

“Oh.” Your head starts to pound. “See? We can’t have a baby when I don’t even know anything about you.”

He chuckles to himself before nodding his chin at you. “All right, fine. Go ahead. Ask me whatever.”

“What?”

“Ask me what you wanna know.”

You think. “Okay. How often do you see your family?”

“Often enough. They live in California, and they work a lot. But we call every couple of weeks.”

“Oh. That’s…surprisingly nice. Uh…do you have a history of disease in your family?”

He grins. “Excuse me?”

“I need to know what I’m getting myself into.” You motion at him. “Answer.”

“This isn’t an interview—”

“Answer.”

“No,” he says. “Not that I know of anyway.”

“Great. Do you plan to be a deadbeat father?”

His eyes roll. “I’m not dignifying that with a response.”

“So, yes? You do? Oh, great—”

“No, because that’s not a fair fucking question—”

“It is a fair question. If I have to raise this baby alone, I want to know—”

“Of course you wouldn’t fucking be alone. Do you really think so little of me—”

“I don’t think about you at all. How am I supposed to know what you’ll do—”

“I wouldn’t leave you alone,” he nearly snaps. He takes a breath to calm himself before adding, “Even if it wasn’t my baby, I wouldn’t leave you alone.”

Your lashes flutter and you can feel your heart lodging in your throat. “Fine. Last question.”

He waits.

“Did you ever want kids…before? With…her?”

He doesn’t have to think for very long, but the mention of her makes him smile. “Nah. We talked about it, but we weren’t ready. We liked it being just us, you know? We had a bunch of shit we wanted to do. We were a long way from babies and a white picket fence.”

You try to blink back the tears swimming their way to your eye. You can still see that beautiful picture of her in his room. An entire future of love and life and adventures that he lost. Now…he’s stuck with you.

“Oh,” you murmur.

His brows furrow. “What?”

“Nothing.” You swipe your knuckle along your cheek. “So, you probably still aren’t ready.”

“I didn’t say that.”

You give him an incredulous look. “Harry, come on. You aren’t ready for a baby. I’m not ready for a baby. We…we don’t know each other, we don’t like each other…we can’t do this. You know that.”

“Do I?” He leans forward. “It’s a baby, not a bomb. I think we can handle it.”

“Well, I don’t. You don’t even like me. You can’t have a baby with me.”

“Why not? People do it all the time.”

“But not us.” You give him a firm stare. “Harry, we love our jobs. We want careers, not kids. So having a baby kind of gets in the way of that. There’s…there’s diaper changes, and teething, and potty training—”

“So?”

“So. We don’t work together well. In fact, it’s a rather well-known fact that we don’t get along. We can’t possibly raise a kid. We’d ruin it.” You study him for a beat, unnerved by the nonchalance in his tone. “Why do I get the feeling you actually want this to be real?”

Another shrug and you nearly lunge at him. “I don’t know,” he murmurs, resting his elbows on his knees while he glances at the floor. “I’m older now. Maybe it’s time to…think about settling down.”

Your face scrunches. “Ew. That doesn’t sound like you at all.”

He laughs. “Look, I don’t know. I haven’t really thought about it, but…maybe it could be a good thing.”

You stand from your chair and pace the length of your small living room. “This is crazy. This is crazy. I can’t have a baby, I’m…I’m not ready. I’m too young, I…I don’t even know what I’d do with one. Or if I even have a maternal instinct.”

“Probably not,” Harry offers, smirking when you glare. “You won’t really know until you have one.”

“Oh, great.”

“Listen, if you feel like you aren’t ready…we can find another alternative,” he says, softening his voice. “Okay? There are plenty of other options and we’ll find one you feel comfortable with.”

A tad wary of his sympathetic answer, you eye him closely. “Yeah? And what if we disagree?”

“We won’t,” he says calmly. “Your body, your decision.”

“Right,” you snort. “I’m sure.”

“I mean it. I wouldn’t be the one having to carry it.” He nods as though to reassure you. “Honestly, Tink. This would be your decision, one hundred percent. It’s not mine to make. Just to support.”

The tears rush a little faster as you sniffle and step closer. “You say that now, but what if I decide something you don’t like?”

“I will like it. I promise,” he murmurs, standing up in order to move toward you. “If you want to keep it, great. If you don’t, great.”

“I…I…” You suck in a deep breath, unable to slow the wild racing in your chest. “Fuck, I can’t…I don’t know—”

“Hey, okay, easy. Easy, Princess,” he says, quickly reaching out to take you in his arms and ease you against his chest. “Relax. Okay? Just breathe. Breathe for me.”

“I…I don’t think I can—”

“Yes, you can. You are.” His lips press to the top of your head while his hand runs up and down your back soothingly. “I’m right here. Do you hear me? I’m right here. You’re not alone. You won’t be alone. I promise.”

You squeeze your arms together and hold on with everything you have. Right now, he feels like your only anchor in the world. The only person strong enough to carry you both through to the other side. And for the first time since you met him…you feel glad that he’s here.

The two of you stand in the middle of the room for a long while before he finally murmurs, “I think it’s been five minutes.”

Your eyes close and you grip his shirt in your first. “I’m…I’m not ready to look.”

“Okay.” You can hear the smile in his response. “Okay, we can wait.”

So, you do as the truth starts to build in your chest. Inescapable, no matter how hard you try to swallow it down.

Finally, you can’t help but whisper, “You know what scares me the most?”

“Hm?”

“…that maybe I’m hoping it’s real.”

The apartment falls silent again. He doesn’t push you to elaborate, but you can feel his heart beating just a little faster inside his chest.

“I don’t know why,” you continue. “I don’t…I really don’t think I’m ready, but…but what if I should be? What if…what if we met and we started this because…because we were supposed to do this?”

He considers this. “Like fate.”

“Yeah.” You roll your lips into your mouth. “Because I still hate you. I do. I just…I’m starting to get this picture in my head of us. Being a family. Having a big house in a good school district. Tucking them into bed at night and reading them stories. Which is…dumb.”

“No,” he mumbles. “No, it’s not dumb. I’ve been thinking about it, too.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. Because I meant what I said, I’d love to get you pregnant. You’d look really fucking hot.”

You chuckle. “Yes, so you’ve mentioned.”

“Can I tell you a secret?”

“Uh…okay?”

He smirks. “I never had a breeding kink until I met you.”

You lean back and swat your hand across his chest. “You’re so annoying.”

“What? I’m being serious.” He grins and those dimples pop free. God, you hope your kids have his dimples—

No. Nope. You aren’t going there.

You shake your head, ridding yourself of the thought. “Whatever. You’re just horny.”

“Maybe. But it’s still true.” His gentle gaze sweeps across your face. “If you wanna do this…we’ll do it. You and me. We’ll have this baby, and we’ll raise it to be really smart, and funny, and to not take shit from anybody.”

You laugh, brushing away a few more tears. “Maybe we can teach it to write code.”

“Oh, fucking obviously.”

The two of you smile before the excitement seems to fizzle and Harry’s brows pull together.

“You know I don’t actually hate you, right?” he says.

You blink. “What?”

“I know that’s our thing, and I know you said it earlier, but…I don’t actually hate you. This baby wouldn’t grow up with two parents that don’t like each other.”

“Oh…I…I know.”

“Good. Because I don’t want that to be one of the reasons you think we can’t do it. I’d fucking love that baby. And I’d love you for carrying it.”

Instantly, you both seem to still. The four-letter word sounds so loud inside such a small room.

I’d love you.

He clears his throat, shifting a bit as he glances toward the kitchen. “I mean, I’d…I’d appreciate you for carrying it—”

“No, yeah, I know,” you stammer. “I know what you mean.”

“Good. Yeah.”

The two of you fall quiet again before you softly admit, “I think I’m ready to look.”

“Okay.” He squeezes your hip. “I’m right here.”

You take in a deep breath before begrudgingly pulling yourself out of his arms. You already miss his warmth and the way he felt like home and your stomach turns as you slip into the bathroom.

With trembling hands, you reach for the stick that sits on the edge of your sink. And in those three seconds, an entire lifetime flashes before your eyes. 

The good, the bad, and the everything in-between. You see a house and a dog and a big backyard. You see two little kids rolling in the grass and jumping into the pool. You hear them begging for a bedtime story and crying when they scrape their knee.

You see a dozen birthdays and holidays and visits to the zoo. You see their heartbreaks and triumphs, their successes and letdowns. You see a million goodnight kisses and cuddles on the couch. 

And then…you see Harry.

In every picture, every moment. Taking them to their first baseball game and picking them up from their first dance. Sneaking them into R-rated movies even after you explicitly said no and feeding them far too much candy and popcorn.

You see him teach your son how to tie a tie and dance with your daughter as she stands on his feet. You see him cooking breakfast in the kitchen, flour all over his face. You see him curled up in bed, his head on your chest, your fingers in his hair. You hear him tell you how happy he is. How glad that he found you.

It’s a beautiful life. Even if it’s not the one you imagined for yourself. And in that moment, you decide that it doesn’t matter what the test says. If that’s your future, so be it. 

As long as you get to live it with him.

“So?” Harry calls from the hall.

You swallow thickly and slowly glance down.

Negative.

Negative.

No baby. No pregnancy. No white-picket fence.

You stare at the test for at least a full minute. You aren’t sure how you feel. Relieved. Disappointed. Upset. Thankful. Confused.

“Tink?”

You turn around. “Uh…it’s negative,” you report, handing it to him. “False alarm. I guess I’m just late.”

He glances over the stick with a rather blank expression before looking at you. “Are you okay?”

You nod. “Yeah. This is definitely the better outcome. I’m just…”

“What?”

“I don’t know. I guess I was just starting to get used to the idea.”

“Yeah,” he murmurs, handing it back. “I know.”

You throw the test away. “Sorry for making you come all the way over here for that.”

“Hey, whoa—” He strides into the bathroom. “What the fuck are you talking about? Of course I’d be here.”

“I just…I wasted your time. I should have taken it before I called you—”

“Tink,” he sighs, taking your cheeks in his hands. “Stop. You can always call me for shit like this.” He looks at you, then amends, “You can always me. For anything. You know that.”

A tear slips from your eye without warning, and you suck in a sharp breath. “I don’t know why I’m so disappointed. This is what I wanted—”

“I know,” he says gently. “I know. It’s hard.”

“Yeah.” You hiccup. “But this is good, right? This is better?”

For a moment, he says nothing. He simply stares at you with a rather sympathetic expression. Or maybe it’s forlorn. Maybe he’s disappointed. Upset that you aren’t giving him what he wants.

Then, he dips down to kiss the tip of your nose. “This is good,” he whispers, and you know he means it. “We would have figured it out. And you would have been a wonderful mom. But I know you. And I know you aren’t ready. Not yet.”

You close your eyes and melt into the feel of his palms against your skin. Into the way he reassures you and protects you all in the same breath. You never thought you’d feel so safe in the serenity of his touch, but here you are. Wishing for him to hold you forever.

“And when we are ready, we’ll do it on our terms,” he says. “Okay?”

Slowly, you nod. “This is good,” you repeat to yourself. “It is. Really. Things are going great at work, I’m finally secure financially, and even you and I are…kind of getting along.”

He smirks.

“This is good. This is better.” You repeat the mantra until you really believe it. “Besides, I probably wouldn’t have been a very good pregnant woman anyway.”

“What do you mean?”

“I don’t know. I feel like I’d be really cranky. Or needy. My ankles would get all swollen and I’d be hot all the time and nauseous and miserable. I’d probably try to kill you.”

“Oh, you’d definitely try to kill me. You try to kill me even when you aren’t pregnant.”

You gasp. “Rude.”

“What?” He chuckles again before his eyes slowly start to rake down your frame. “But I don’t know. I think it’ll be better than you think.”

You swat him again. “Stop it.”

“Stop what?”

“Stop trying to picture it.”

“Why? I told you, you’d look fucking hot.”

“Yeah…no.”

However, he only nods, moving in to subtly brush his lips against yours. “You would. Be so fucking beautiful carrying our baby. With your tits all swollen and your belly getting bigger every day.”

Truthfully, the image almost makes you grimace, but there’s something about the way he says it. The way he talks about you so reverently. A soft, sultry murmur that goes straight to your cunt. Because you know he’s not just saying it to say it. He means it. Believes it. Would do anything for it.

He tilts your head back, thumb brushing along your jaw. “And I think you like it,” he exhales. “I think you like the idea of holding me inside you. Having a part of me. Knowing that I did it to you. No one else.”

You suck in a soft breath, knees going just a bit weak. “Harry…”

“What, baby?” His mouth ghosts along your neck. “Are you thinking about it? Thinking about how pretty your tummy would look with me inside it?”

He’s evil. Absolutely evil, and you clear your throat in a desperate attempt to regain control of yourself. “Do you…have a pregnancy kink I don’t know about?” 

His lips quirk up. “Apparently.”

“Mm.” Your lashes flutter and the urge to kiss him grows stronger. “You know…some women get really horny when they’re pregnant.”

“So I’ve heard.”

“Yeah. I don’t think you could handle it.”

He scoffs. “Oh, no?”

You shake your head. “I mean, do you really think you could keep up? Going for hours and hours on end? Trying to keep me satiated with your poor, limp little dick?”

He makes another noise, and you tsk.

“I mean, you can barely satisfy me now as it is. But if I was pregnant? Pfft. Forget it.”

Instantly, he’s snatching hold of your hips and yanking you against his chest. “Don’t fucking tempt me, Princess,” he nearly growls. “I’ll bend you over right now.”

“No, I don’t think you will,” you retort. “You’ve gone soft on me. Rubbing my back, kissing my hair. You wanna take care of me and honestly? It’s a little pathetic.”

His head cocks rather deviously and your pulse begins to skip. He could split you in half if he wanted to and you both know it. 

But that’s what you need right now. You don’t want to be coddled or looked after. You wanna be fucked. Tortured and teased until you’re begging for release.

You want an escape.

And in that moment, Harry decides to give you one.

He picks you up and carries you out of the bathroom while your legs quickly work to hook to his hips for stability and your arms snake around his neck.

He ignores your squeals and teasing huffs of annoyance, instead dropping you onto your mattress with a soft thud.

You glare and push up onto your elbows. “You know, you don’t have to manhandle me—”

“Shut up.”

He surges forward, lips gliding against yours as he takes a taste of you on his tongue. And kissing is easy with him. As easy breathing, like you’ve done it all your life. You know exactly what he likes, what he wants. And you give it him.

His glasses are cold against your face, keeping him from getting as close as he’d like, and after a moment, he huffs, and rips them off before tossing them aside. And even though you adore when he wears them, you happen to adore being near him even more.

Your hands are in his hair, tugging on his curls, scratching down his neck. He has the added advantage of being on top, but that doesn’t seem to stop him from turning to putty in your hands. Clay for you to mold to your liking. 

No matter how dominant he tries to be, he’s simply a man that needs to be told what to do. Taken care of. Shown. 

And you happen to like showing him.

You feel him tug on the hem of your shirt. “Off,” he breathes between carnal nips to your throat. “I want this off, Tink.”

Happy to oblige, you push him back so you can lift yourself up before you peel the fabric from your chest. You take your time with the bra, allowing the straps to fall down your arms oh so slowly. You don’t rush to reveal yourself to him, instead letting him anticipate you. Until his heart is racing and his eyes are darkening and he’s resisting the urge to do it himself.

But once he can finally see you, he nearly groans. “Oh, good fucking girl.” 

He resumes his work. More kisses are left to the warm, tender skin, and he happily sucks bruises into each swell and curve of your breast before teasing the nipple with his tongue. His hands are greedy—ravenous. Pulling at your flesh, clawing his way along your frame. 

When he reaches your thighs, you whimper. You’ve missed the way he touches you. The way he pries your legs apart and makes a home between.

In a rush, he snaps your panties off into his fist and you toss him a punishing glare.

He smiles.

You rid each other of your remaining clothes in a frantic fashion until they’re nothing more than a dirty pile on the floor. Messy and familiar. Fated.

He drops down onto the bed back first, effortlessly swapping positions as you’re placed in a straddle over his waist.

“Good girl, let me see you,” he murmurs, running his fingers down your cheek before grabbing your jaw. “Go ahead.”

You reach down and take his hardening cock in your hand, running it along your cunt before teasing yourself with the tip. 

“Didn’t stretch you,” he mumbles, leaving a few stray kisses to your collarbone. “S’might hurt, so—”

You push him in, simultaneously sinking down in an effort to feel a more prominent burn., and you both make a rather lewd noise as the grip on your chin tightens.

“Tink,” he hisses with a punishing look of his own. “Careful—”

You drop yourself further, muscles tensing around the thickness until your thighs begin to shake.

“Hey—” He forces your eyes on his. “Enough. Be gentle, m’not gonna hurt you—”

“I want you to,” you pant. “Please. I need it. I…fuck, Har, I need it. Please…please.”

He’s still frowning but his expression softens. “Baby…not like this. Maybe we should wait until you’re feeling better—"

“No,” you whimper. Desperate. Fraught. “Harry, please, don’t stop. Don’t make me stop—”

“Hey, easy, easy.” He pulls your forehead to his. “Breathe. It’s okay.”

You try to obey. Try to suck in a strangled gasp of air but it’s useless. He’s gonna take himself from you. He’s gonna leave, and you’ll be empty, and alone, and maybe he won’t ever touch you again—

He places his palm on your chest, right over your heart. “Breathe,” he says again. Soft. Quiet. “In then out. Good girl, just like that.”

You follow the sound of his voice. Mimic his inhales and exhales until the two of you fall into a synchronized rhythm. 

“Good,” he says again, rubbing his other hand along your back. “There you go. You’re all right, I’ve got you. Yeah?”

Weakly, you nod. “I’m…I’m sorry. I just…I—”

“Shh.” He kisses your nose. “You’re okay, Tink. I know.”

A long moment passes before you finally feel in control of your own heart again and once you blink the fog from your eye, you see him. Delicate and strong at the same time.

He sweeps his thumb along your lip. “Talk to me. What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” you admit. “Really, I just…I needed to feel you. And I wanted to…move on, I guess. Think about something else. Lose myself for a bit.”

He sighs but nods his understanding. “You could have told me that.”

“I know. I guess I’m just not used to sharing things with you.”

“I know,” he echoes with a small grin. “But we’ll learn, yeah?”

Your gaze grows suspicious. “And why would we do that?”

“Because,” he says simply. “If we’re gonna make a bunch of hot, smart babies one day, we’re gonna have to communicate.”

You snort. “Yeah, well, that won’t be for a while.”

“Fine. Just gives us more time to practice.”

Your eyes narrow. “You really have gone soft on me, haven’t you? All because you thought I was pregnant."

He laughs, fingers slipping around the back of your neck to pull you in for a kiss. “I’d argue I’m actually quite hard right now.”

“Ha. Funny.”

“I can hate you and like you at the same time, right?” he teases. “Because I think that’s my sweet spot. Wanting to kill you and fuck you all at once.”

“Agreed. You’re insufferable but you’re also one of my favorite people. Which only makes you more insufferable.”

“Yeah.” He smiles. “I think we earned a little civility, no?”

You nod and take his lip between your teeth. “And I think we should celebrate with an orgasm.”

He laughs again. “I suppose that’s only fair.”

You dance your kisses down his chest, enjoying the way his head drops back while he sighs at the feel of your tongue. He’s so beautiful and so good and if you’re going to lose yourself, you want to lose yourself in him.

Leaning back, brace your hands behind you on his knees, and start to bounce yourself on his cock. Over and over, faster and faster, until he’s grabbing onto your hips and giving them a firm, encouraging squeeze to help you along.

Your tits bounce right in his face, and he takes advantage of his front row seat, allowing his hands to trace and tease your nipples as you whine. He sucks them into his mouth and pulls them with his teeth. It sends chills along your spine and goosebumps along your arms and when he notices, he smirks.

 Not even a minute later, he’s pulling you down so your chest meets his. His hands land on your ass with a firm grip and he drags you along his cock. Slow and sensual until your eyes flutter shut, and you disappear into the building pleasure.

You feel his kisses on your ribcage as he begins to thrust up into you. Returning to the pace you previously set until you’re both chasing that familiar high. 

“There you go,” he praises through gritted teeth. “Fuck yeah, just like that—”

“Harry,” you mewl, fingers tangling in his hair. “Shit, please—”

“I know.” He leaves another kiss to the inside of your arm before he smacks your left ass cheek. “I got you, Princess. S’okay. Keep going.”

You grind yourself over his lap, knees hugging his waist as you bury yourself in the crook of his neck. Needy. Anxious. You match each other’s rhythm and it’s a dance. An effortless fluidity that brings you closer than ever before.

Then, he sucks two fingers into your mouth, and moves them between your cheeks. He grazes them over your tighter hole, gently teasing them over the other entrance before dropping them down to where his cock is fucking into your cunt. He plays with you a bit, pushing you just a bit closer while you wail—depraved—and beg for more.

“My good girl,” he praises. He spanks you again. “Fuck—that’s it, baby.”

Your staccato whimpers are consistent now. One for every thrust and you can almost taste his desperation as he turns his head in order to kiss your cheek. The sound of skin against skin is crude and delicious. The way your body slides against his. Like butter on a hot day, melting together.

He goes faster, pulls you harder. Fingers digging into your skin so hard it almost hurts. But in the best possible way. In turn, you brace yourself with a palm on his throat. Squeezing it tight as you start to get closer. 

“Yeah,” he groans. “Shit…harder—”

You obey, pinching the sides of his neck until his eyes roll back. 

You can feel his heart racing against yours. You’re both warm. Hot. Shaking. A tangled mess of limps and depraved grinding like animals in heat.

“M’almost…m’almost there,” you whisper.

He nods, looking down your body to watch the way your ass bounces in his hands. “Go. S’okay, go. Let me feel you.”

He leaves more kisses to your side and the tender way his lips feel against your skin makes your brain go fuzzy. 

You grip his throat a bit tighter and just like that…it’s over.

The two of you cum together, the room filling with moans and gasps and promises. He settles beneath you while you ride out the rest of your high but he makes sure to keep his arm around you through every second.

Once you finally catch your breath, he hums. “God-fucking-damn.”

You grin. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” He turns to see you. “I think I’m pregnant.”

You roll your eyes with a swat to his chest but you’re laughing. “You’re so annoying.”

“And yet you still like me.”

“I never said that.”

“You said I’m your favorite person.”

“Yeah, well, I lied.”

“Right.” He helps you ease him out before he’s flipping you around and moving himself between your legs.   

You blink. “What the hell are you doing?”

He lifts two fingers and eases them along your swollen pussy. Collecting the white, sticky substance already leaking out before easily pushing it back in.

“Harry,” you scold. “I think we’ve had enough breeding for one day.”

He smirks. “Relax, Tink, m’not breeding you. I just…like to see it drip out.”

Your heart leaps. “…oh.”

“Yeah.” He rests his cheek against the inside of your thigh in order to watch. “S’always so fucking pretty.”

You reach down and card your fingers through his sweaty curls. Happy and content for the first time in days.

He looks up. “One day,” he promises, even though it sounds more like a question.

But somehow, in this moment, it makes everything else worth it.

You grin.

“One day.”

AAA I can’t believe we finally did it!! I’m not gonna lie them being soft with each other is gross 😭 BUT ALSO CUTE!! YAY PROGRESS!!

Thank you so much for reading and for always being so nice!! 🥹💞💞 and of course thank you for the amazing idea hehe

Also, if you see any mistakes……no you don’t 🫶

~  Full 404 Masterlist

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[yieldtotemptation]

BLUEBERRIES ft. Chaewon

chaewon x male reader smut

9k words

"SURPRISE ATTACK!"

—is the last thing you hear before your entire world tilts sideways, the weight of your girlfriend crashing into you, sending you toppling over the arm of your chair and onto the thankfully plush carpet.

And just like that, Kim Chaewon has arrived—shattering the quiet of your apartment with the sound of her giggles and the thud of your bodies.

To her credit, she gracefully lands on top of you—legs straddling your torso, hands pressing down on your chest—pinning you to the floor, and she's grinning—all doe-eyes and mischief, her hair fanned out around her like a strawberry-blonde halo.

"Do you surrender, baby?"

You could pretend to put up a fight—push back a little, buck your hips, take her by the waist—get a little rough. But why would you? Especially when losing meant having Chaewon on top of you.

So, like always, you decide it's best to give your girlfriend exactly what she wants and you play along: enjoying the creamy thighs squeezing your sides, that collarbone peeking out of your stolen sweatshirt, those impossibly large eyes looking down at you as she makes herself comfortable—and you respond with a rather theatrical groan, "I surrender, Chae."

"Nuh uh," she corrects you, her voice dropping down a comically low octave. "It's Chaewon-rys Targar-something, Queen of Apartment 19-4, Ruler of..."

"My fridge?" You offer.

"Very funny,” Chaewon replies, bemused.

It's been weeks without this—without her—and you've barely survived. Chaewon's schedule is a merciless beast, devouring every second of her time. But here she is, now, with you—on top of you—back in your life and picking up from exactly where she left off.

“But,” she continues, “seeing as you're in the mood for jokes how about… ThisI" Chaewon turns cruel, unveiling her most brutal method of torture—tickling. She catches you off guard, shifting her weight, her hands abandoning your chest and flying to your sides, her light fingers dancing over your ribs, her nails lightly digging in just enough to make you squirm.

"Wait-wait-wait!" You try to twist your way free, but she's got you good, her fingers now inching closer to your armpits, towards your most vulnerable spots. "Mercy!" you yell, but she's just getting started— “Mercy!”

"No mercy!" She's relishing this far, far too much, all giggles and grins, delighted at your pathetic efforts to struggle out from her grasp and escape her vicious assault. Your laughter comes out in uncontrollable bursts, as you desperately try to cover your sides to protect yourself from her onslaught.

"Ok-ok-ok-I give up! You win— you win—I give up!" You cry out, your laughter morphing into wheezes as Chaewon's relentless tickling at last, mercifully subsides.

"Aha! Round 129 goes to Kim-Chae-Won!" Chaewon turns and bows to an imaginary audience, mimicking a faraway crowd chanting her name "Kim-Chae-Won! Kim-Chae-Won!"

"I have once again been defeated," you feign a dramatic sigh, drawing an even harder laugh from Chaewon as you roll your eyes to the back your head and let your tongue loll out of your mouth.

Your apparent death does little to faze Chaewon, who takes this as an opportunity to plop down on your stomach, pressing her full weight down on your chest. She props her elbows on either side of your shoulders, her chin resting on her interlocked hands. “I guess it’s time to claim my prize.”

Chaewon slides her hands upwards, her fingertips walking up your arms towards your wrists, squeezing them lightly and pulling them over your head, holding them firm against the ground.

When your eyes finally refocus, she’s hovering over you, her button nose brushing against yours, and her lips—bright pink and slightly parted—just millimeters away from your own.

You're trapped under her, but you hardly mind—she's so warm, so soft, so natural—crime would skyrocket if this was considered a form of punishment.

"Let this be a lesson," she's whispering now, very much satisfied, so close that waves of her strawberry-blonde hair spill down on either side of your face. Strands tickle your nose with the scent of her shampoo, a floral bouquet that you've come to associate with lazy Sundays and the promise of warm breakfasts in bed. "I. Always. End. On. Top."

She finishes her victory speech by stealing a kiss—as light and sweet as she is—but it’s still far, far shorter than you'd like.

That simple kiss has your mind wandering, entertaining the thought of flipping the script—of surprising her, overpowering her and turning the tables.

You could grab her, kiss her long and hard—get rid of that ludicrously oversized sweatshirt and tear off those dangerously short sweatpants. Part those lithe, never-ending legs, feel the warmth of her bare skin against yours, mark your territory on her perfect, toned thighs and each individual abdominal muscle.

But the way she's looking at you, her cheeks flushed from the exertion, her eyes sparkling with playful triumph, she's so adorable that the thought of manhandling her right now seems almost...sacrilegious.

And, let's face it, it's seeing this side of her that you love—the Chaewon that's free from the glitz and glamour of the stage, the choreography, the smiles that are painted on for the cameras. The Chaewon that is not wearing the mask of someone enjoying herself, that is actually, genuinely having a good time.

Here, in your apartment, with the curtains drawn and the outside world blocked out, she's just yours—Kim Chaewon, your girlfriend. The one who laughs at your terrible dad jokes and makes fun of your outdated sense of style, the one who can tell whether you've had a good day or not just by how heavy your feet are when you walk through the front door, the one who knows all the perfect ways to make you relax after a tough day at—

Fuck.

Work.

The word sneaks into your mind like a ninja in the night—silent, swift, and really fucking inconvenient.

Fucking work.

A bullshit spreadsheet you're supposed to be updating and a deck that needs to be finished by tomorrow morning, even though you know it won't be looked at for another month.

You don't have to say anything, Chaewon's already reading the frown lines on your face. "Oh—no-no-no. That's your—'fun time is over I have work to do'—face. I hate that face."

"There's these slides..." you know you’re fighting a losing battle, your voice trailing off as you try to hold onto the last remnants of what was once a very pleasant afternoon.

"No way—not happening," Chaewon insists, emphasising her point with a firm squeeze of your wrists. "I only just came back from Japan, and it’s been weeks. There is no way you're going to ditch the beautiful love of your life for that laptop. I'm literally on top of you right now!"

"Come on, Chae, I was almost done when you came in—"

"—when I defeated you in combat and forced you to surrender— "

"At least let me do a quick review then I swear I'm all yours," you negotiate, trying to maintain eye contact with her but failing as your gaze falls to the laptop atop your desk, the open tabs taunting you. "Five minutes, tops."

"Nope, not moving, not going anywhere, you're just going to have stay under me like this forever." Chaewon's being petulant now—this is more your fault than anything, you've been spoiling her like a princess—and while she is acting like a brat, it's a brat of your own creation.

"Chae—come on—let me up, please."

"If I let you up, you'll get into one of your 'zones' and then it'll be hours before you’re done and you’ll completely ignore me," Chaewon pouts, her nose scrunching up in a way that's both endearing and exasperating. "And I've missed you too much for that."

"I promise I won't—”

Chaewon rolls her eyes at that.

“I'm serious—just let me up."

"Oh, you're serious now, how scary."

"Five minutes, Chae—"

“Bullshit.”

“Come on, let me up.”

"Or what, what are you going to—wait—what the—wait!"

It doesn't take much effort at all—face it, she's at best a hundred pounds soaking wet—but you're already on your feet, wrists free of her dainty fingers, holding her up with just one arm and a single hand palming an ample ass cheek.

You catch your breath as you stand, and she’s still reeling as the sudden balance shifts. She’s forced to cling to you, wrapping those long, toned legs around your waist, and looping her arms around your neck, her hands grasping at the back of your head as if she's afraid you're going to drop her.

"H-how the—how did you—I had you pinned!" Chaewon squeaks out, pure disbelief colouring her voice as she clings onto you.

You leave her to work through the logic on her own, returning to your desk, righting your fallen chair, all the while still holding Chaewon like a prize you've just won at an arcade.

"Hey! Don't ignore me!" Chaewon protests, but it's too late. You've already set her down on your desk, the laptop between the two of you like a barricade. She tries to keep her limbs wrapped around you, legs around your waist—do anything she can to stop you—but you gently, quite easily, peel her off—earning another scowl from your girlfriend.

You can feel Chaewon's eyes boring into you as you sit down at your desk, her legs swinging back and forth from the edge of the desk in frustration. The work itself doesn't take long—you were being honest—just a minor grammar check here, fixing some formatting there and—

"What was that? How did you just—”

It's the first time you've ever seen Kim Chaewon—usually so composed and untouchable on stage—so completely, utterly flustered.

"I don't get it. I mean did you just get this strong?" Chaewon's voice is small, barely heard over the sound of your keystrokes—trying to process what just happened. She's shifted on the desk, leaning back now on her palms, looking at you like you're a puzzle piece that doesn't fit anywhere at all. "Or have you always been—you were just—were you letting me win? Hey—why are you laughing?"

You hit a final 'enter', saving your work with a performative flair, and spin the chair around to face Chaewon so you can give her your full, undivided attention.

But she's not looking at you—no, she's still trying to make sense of it, her gaze flitting from the chair, to the floor, to the laptop, to your hands that are now folded neatly in your lap. You're expecting a comeback, something witty and biting, something that'll make you laugh, but she's just sitting there—pouting. Adorably so.

"Chae, come on."

"What?" She snaps out of her daze, the hardware in her head overclocking. "I just—I exercise way more than you—I run, I dance everyday, I go to the gym, I do pilates—you can't be that much stronger than me."

"I'm like twice your size, Chae." You chuckle, reaching for the water bottle on your desk and taking a well-earned swig. "And I do manage to sneak in some workouts when you're not around to tickle me to death."

"But... this whole time?" Chaewon asks, there’s an accusation in her voice as she crosses her arms over her chest, inadvertently distracting you with the way it makes her sweatshirt pull tightly across her breasts. It's too fucking cute, and you can't help but lean in for a kiss, but she turns her head away at the last second. "Every time, you've been taking it easy on me? Kiddie gloves?"

You sigh.  "More or less."

"Why?"

"I guess I thought you knew," you say with a sheepish smile, "but even then, I didn't want to spoil the fun for you." You take another sip of water, watching her carefully. "You're so competitive, Chae. And when we’re playing like this and you win, you're so... happy. I just like seeing that."

"But that's..." Chaewon stammers. "Even when we're... You know... You're so... Gentle with me."

"Of course, I never want to—I'm just afraid that—"

"Afraid of what? That you'll break me? Okay, Bruce Banner." Chaewon teases, seemingly having made some decision in her own mind, as she hops off the desk to face you. "So, you've been holding back? You really think you’re that much stronger than me?”

You give her a very cautious shrug.

"Prove it."

"What?"

"If you’re really as strong as you think. Show me. Here—take my wrists—" Chaewon says, holding them out to you, "—and I bet I'll still be able to break free like I always do."

“I’m not sure if this is such a good idea,” you say, setting your bottle aside and standing up to face her.

“Why? Chicken?” She answers, and you try not to facepalm, reminding yourself that it is easier to just give her what she wants—most of the time, anyway.

"Alright, if that's what you want," you reply, gently placing your hands on her shoulders and guiding her so her back is flat against the nearest wall. She's staring up at you the whole time, watching you intensely as you take both her wrists in one hand, holding it against the wall and above her head.

"Really, only one hand? This will be real easy to get out of—" Chaewon starts to taunt, but she never gets to finish her sentence, because your grip tightens around her wrists and she feels the full weight of your body pressing into hers. She tries to pull away, expecting the same give she's felt countless times before, but your hand is like a vice—firm and unyielding—and it dawns on her that she's not going anywhere.

Her eyes widen slightly, and she tries to hide her surprise—because she's still in the game, still playing along. She tries to push off from the wall with her legs, but you anticipate it, placing a hand on her waist and keeping her in place.

Even you're surprised at how little effort it is to keep her still—a small push here, a slight change in weight there—Chaewon is at your mercy and it feels... different.

"Wait—I can't—" Chaewon still hasn’t given up, squirming and wiggling, doing little to help her escape but a lot to make you want to keep her against you.

She's trapped, every move she makes only making it worse for her—better for you—moulding her body closer into yours, aligning the softness of her curves with the hard lines of your chest.

But still, she struggles, tries every way she can think of to break free—twisting, turning, pushing with her legs, even trying to bite you at one point—but her best efforts only make you chuckle, and press her harder into the wall, press yourself harder into her.

You can feel her heart racing beneath her sweatshirt, and there's something there—you both feel it—a sudden tension in her helplessness, a thrill in your newfound power over her. "Damn it—this is so—argh!"

Chaewon’s eyes meet yours, and there’s your confirmation—that spark of something new, something unspoken. It's not anger or fear—no, she's never looked at you with fear—it's something else entirely. It's excitement, curiosity, a hint of arousal.

And so, you lean in, closing the last gap between you, and kiss her—right there against the wall.

It's not the gentle peck she's used to, it's not the sweet, loving kiss she’s grown to expect—it's more. You don’t even understand it yourself—it's raw, it's passionate, it's the kind of kiss that could start a war—or end one—the kind of kiss that sucks all the air from the room.

Her body tenses up, and for a moment you fear that maybe this is too much, too far, and you ready to let her go.

But she melts into it—into you. You let go of her wrists to cradle her face, and her arms fall to your shoulders, wrapping around your neck as she kisses you back—kisses you like she doesn't want you to ever stop, like she knows she couldn't stop you even if she tried. Her nails dig into your skin, not painfully, but with enough pressure to remind you that she's here, that she's alive and real and in this moment with you.

You push her into the wall, the plaster giving a gentle protest, and she’s lifting her legs up—she’s straddling you again, gravity doing its job and keeping her affixed to your torso.

Chaewon adapts, her ankles lock behind your back, pressing herself against you, her thighs tightening around your waist, and she’s hips grinding down over your sweatpants.

It’s almost too much, too fast—zero to a hundred in record time. You break the kiss, panting, breathless, but Chaewon's eyes stay closed, her chest heaving, as if she's afraid that if she opens them, this moment will evaporate like a mirage.

"Enough proof for you?"

"Yeah," is all Chaewon can muster, and she opens her eyes, dazed, like you’ve just woken her up from a particularly good dream.

"I'm sorry," you say, the words coming out in a rush, "I didn't mean to lie to you, I just didn't want to ruin your fun. Are you upset?"

"Upset?" Chaewon repeats, letting the word roll around her lips. "Maybe a little bit," she's biting her lip—so endearingly—and you can see the wheels turning in her head—recalculating, reassessing. "But now I'm just..." she pauses, looking down and rolling her hips against you once more, "I'm just really, really turned on."

Her admission hangs in the air between the two of you, and the air in your apartment begins to feel hotter, thicker, laced with something new.

"I love how you take care of me, how you make me feel safe..." Chaewon continues, "But this... the way you're holding me up like this... So easily, it's just so..." Another shifting of weight, another grind of her hips, and she’s slowly discovering what your sweatpants is making very little to hide. "Hot."

"Is that right?" You can't take your eyes off her lips, the way they form those delicious words. Maybe you've been wrong to treat her like she's fragile, like you could hurt her if you're not careful enough. Maybe what she’s really been craving is to prove herself to you, to prove to you that she can handle you—all of you. "Tell me what you like about it."

"I like how—ah—" Her voice hitches as you let go of her waist with your hand, sliding it under her sweatshirt, running your fingers over her toned stomach, feeling it cave in a sharp inhale. "How in control you are. How strong you feel."

Even without your hand at her waist she doesn't fall—her legs simply tighten around your waist, her grip on your neck becoming more secure, more possessive. You trace her belly button with your fingertip—her breath catches, her eyes flutter shut.

"How it feels like you could do—mmm—" she continues, her words getting lost as your hand rises higher up her body, reaching the swell of her breasts. Chaewon arches her back, pushing her chest out for more, a soft mewl escaping her lips. “—could do anything to me and I wouldn't be able to stop you."

You slip your fingers under her bra, the fabric stretching to accommodate your touch, press your thumb against her nipple, feeling it pebble under your touch. You pinch and roll them lightly, basking in her reactions, the way her eyebrows furrow, the way her mouth forms a perfect 'O'.

"I can do anything I want to you."

Chaewon's eyes open, and she’s looking at you like she’s seeing someone entirely different in place of her usual, doting boyfriend. She's panting, her chest rising and falling rapidly, her cheeks a glowing shade of red that seems to spread down her neck and into the fabric of her sweatshirt. She opens her mouth, her breath coming out in short, sharp gasps, and she whispers—"Will you?"

Two simple words. Two simple words that unlock something deep inside you. Something primal. The thing inside each man since the dawn of time that drives them to hunt, kill, fuck like their lives depend on it.

Two simple words that have you leaning in and kissing her again, not just her lips—your mouth traces a fiery path along her jawline, the tender spot behind her ear, down her neck. Each kiss is a promise of what's to come, each nip of your teeth makes her shiver.

Chaewon gasps, her body writhing under your touch, her legs tightening around your waist, desperate and afraid you'll pull away. You don't. Instead, you press into her, feeling the wetness spreading through her shorts, and it takes all your self-control to not rip them off her right there.  

"Bedroom," she manages to get out, a soft, fleeting whimper between kisses, "take me to the—"

You never find out the end of her sentence—twisting her body around, your hands cupping the firm, round globes of her ass, and in a single, swift motion, you lift her higher, throwing her up and over your shoulder.

"Wai—" Chaewon squeals as you hoist her up, her legs dangling in the air, has ass pointing to the sky.

She's giggling again, the sound muffled by the fabric of your sweatshirt, her laughter vibrating through your back as you carry her across the apartment.

"I can't believe you're actually doing this—" she's still giggling, managing to separate herself from your back to chide you,

"—you're so strong it's unfair—",

"—treating me like I weigh nothing—" ,

"—like a caveman—",

"—I'm going to have to tell the others about this—",

"—they won't believe it—",

"—I don't even believe it—",

"—my what a big, strong boyfriend I ha—"

But she's cut off again as you kick open the already ajar bedroom door, the wood slamming against the wall. Before she can realise what's happening you're throwing her onto the bed, her body bouncing once before she lands in a sprawled mess of limbs and exclamations.

"Are you ever going to let me finish a full sen—"

"Chae," her name comes out deeper and gruffer—far more demanding than you intended, cutting off her playful protests in an instant.

For once, Chaewon is paying full attention—no quips, no sarcasm, no laughter to lighten the mood—the room completely quiet except for the sound of her breathing, and even that seems to hush in anticipation of what's to come.

You stand over her, her legs still in the air, her body open and exposed for you—her sweatshirt riding up, revealing the smooth expanse of her stomach, the little mole you've kissed a thousand times just above her navel, her shorts stretched so tightly over her thighs.

It's in the way she's looking at you too—the way she squirms under your gaze, the way she can't help but make her body arch up towards you, pushing out those beautiful, perfect breasts, slightly parting her legs as if inviting you to dive in—wanting you to take her (to fuck her) in all the ways you wanted to but were too afraid to try before—it's all so different, all too much, all so fucking intoxicating.

"You want me to do whatever I want to you?"

Chaewon swallows hard, and nods.

"You want me to take you however I want?"

Another nod, another submission.

You step closer to the bed, your mind completely made up. "Then say it."

Her voice comes out hoarse, a strained whisper. "Take me."

"Again."

She repeats it, this time her words clearer, urgent. "Please—take me."

And with that—her shorts—those tight, far too tiny shorts—become your first victim. There's no time for slow, teasing unbuttoning or the gentle tug of fabric over skin. You're too far gone for that.

So, you rip.

The button pops off with a satisfying ping, and the material gives way, revealing her panties beneath. The sound makes Chaewon gasp, her body shiver.

Hooking your thumbs in the waistband, you drag the shorts down her legs, bringing them gliding over the soft skin of her ass, catching briefly on her thighs before you toss them to the floor.

Her panties are next—white, cotton, and oh-so-innocent looking—the kind tailor-made to be ripped off and left in shreds. But just as your hand reaches the waistband, something holds you back.

A thought—a flicker of doubt—crosses your mind. What if she doesn't like this? What if you're getting caught up and taking things too far? What if she regrets what she's about to let you do to her?

But then, "I'm okay," Chaewon says, reading your hesitation. "Stop thinking like that." Her voice is firm, almost commanding. "I want this."

"Chae—"

"I. Want. This." Chaewon repeats, her voice stronger. “I want it all.”

You trust her—you always will—and so, you nod, understanding the gravity of her words. You lean over her, capturing her gaze, making sure she sees you, really sees you. "Alright, but we need a safe word."

"A safe word." Chaewon echoes, a smile rising on her face, as she realises what a safe word means—what it enables you to do to her.

"If you want me to stop," you say, slowly, like a professor and his star pupil. "Just say..."

"Blueberry," Chaewon interjects, the corner of her mouth curling up into a mischievous smile.

"Blueberry?" It's so unfitting, so fucking adorable, so Chae. "Fine then, if you want me to stop," you begin to explain the rules of the game that you're already starting—kissing down her calf, over her knee, down that gorgeous curve of her inner thigh, until your lips are meeting cotton— "you just say 'blueberry'. As loud as you can, the second you want me to stop. Otherwise, we keep going until I'm satisfied. Got it?"

Chaewon nods eagerly, a little too eagerly, but you don't miss the glint of excitement in her eyes. She's so ready for you, so ready for what's to come next, her body vibrating with anticipation.

"Good."

The single word hangs in the air, a declaration of intent. With it, your hand moves to her panties, the cotton material damp with her arousal. You don't hesitate, you don't play it slow, again—all it takes is your thumb in her waistband and you rip. What were once her panties gives way easily, tearing with a sound that's halfway might as well be a starting pistol, revealing her bare, already glistening, already so wet pussy to the coolness of the room.

But Chaewon's not just lying there waiting for you to make your next move. No, she's not that kind of girl. She's sitting up now, her sweatshirt coming off with a flick of her wrists, the heavy garment flying through the air to land somewhere in the room, forgotten.

Her bra follows suit—quick, efficient, like she couldn't wait another second to be naked for you. Chaewon's breasts bounce free, full and firm and so fucking perfect, rosy tips hard from the cold air or maybe just from the way you're looking at her.

Fuck, the sight of her alone is almost too much. You take a moment, just to breathe her in—to admire the way the light from the bedside lamp casts shadows on her skin, highlighting the curves and valleys of her body. She's a work of art, a masterpiece, and now, she's all yours—every line, every freckle, every goosebump that pops up as the cool air kisses her heated skin.

But you're not here to admire, not now. You're here to give her exactly what she wants, to treat her exactly how she deserves.

You push her back into the bed, your hands on her shoulders, the mattress sinking under your joint weight, and you're kissing her again—no, not kissing, consuming. You kiss her like you're trying to claim her, like you're trying to brand her with your mouth, and she's kissing you back with matched desperation, her nails digging into your skin like she's trying to climb you, to get closer, closer still.

"Mmmm..." Chaewon presses herself up against you—her taut, stiff nipples pushing into your chest, perfect buds squashing themselves against your body, her bare skin gliding over your shirt, her pussy, hot and wet and slippery, working its way over the swell of your sweatpants.

Her hands are everywhere—fumbling with your shirt, running up and down your back, grabbing fistfuls of your hair—and her lips follow, peppering kisses across your cheeks, your jaw, your neck. Her teeth graze the sensitive skin just below your ear, her tongue tracing the shell, her lips whispers sweet—filthy—nothings into your ear.

She dares to move a hand lower, squeezing in some tiny gap between your two bodies, reaching for the waistband of your sweatpants, her fingers teasing the skin just above the elastic.

But you're quicker, catching her wrist, pulling it away with a firm, yet gentle grip.

"No."

You collect her other wrist in the same hand, stretching her arms out and over her head, pushing her down—with your grip, your weight, your hips—keeping her in place, keeping her where you want, paying her back in kind for her earlier “victory”.

"I know what you want," you murmur against her neck. You lean more of your weight into her, your hips pressing down, grinding against her—a slow, deliberate movement, that stains your sweatpants with the juices leaking from her pink, puffy lips.

"Yes," she purrs, "I need you."

"I know," you taunt—another grind, another groan, a deepening stain, "but I need you to want me more."

"I do," she's pleading, begging, "please, I need your cock."

"Not yet," you say, a light chuckle at the whine that escapes her lips. "Not yet."

"But—"

"I am going to fuck you," you say. "Not how you're used to." Her breath hitches, throat swallows—apprehension, arousal, adrenaline—it's all there, playing out on her face like a silent movie. "I'm going to fuck you in every way that I've ever wanted to, in every way I thought you could never handle."

You snake a hand from her waist, drawing a path with your fingertips, running them over her soft, unblemished skin, the ridges of her abs, as you move your hand down, down, until you're right at the juncture of her thighs.

"Ah!" It's the sweetest sound, a high-pitched gasp that turns into a full-throated groan as your index finger breaches her wetness, sliding into the slick, dripping opening of her cleanly shaved cunt—so, so wet—until it's buried knuckle-deep inside her.

Chaewon's back lifts off the bed, her body curving as you slide your finger in and out of her, settling into a steady rhythm. Every movement earns a different, delightful reaction—you trigger your finger: her body shakes, you kiss her neck: she echoes back your name, you add your middle, then your ring finger into her tightness: she falls apart.

"God—gah—" she chokes on whatever noise her mouth is trying to make, her legs spreading wider, hips bucking up to meet your hand, your rhythm. She's beyond soaked; her thighs, her lips, your palm—all drenched in hot, insatiable wetness. "You're so—so fucking good at this."

You add your thumb to the mix, brushing the hood of her clit with the pad; you curl your fingers inside her, finding that spot that makes her crumble.

Her eyes start to close, she’s lost to the sensation, her face contorting in beautiful agony as her walls close around your digits, before you snap her out of it—tightening your grip around her wrists, a slight jolt of pain to force her eyes to meet yours.

"Look at me," you grunt. "Look at me while I fuck you."

Chaewon doesn't dare even blink—she’s so obedient—and the way she's looking up at you now—so willing, so wanting to please, so eager for more—it's bordering on complete worship.

So, you give it to her. You plunge your fingers deeper, twisting and turning, feeling her tighten around you, her wetness coating your hand, the walls of her pussy fluttering with each stroke. You can see it in the redness of her cheeks, the trembling of her thighs, the way her stomach muscles tighten and release—she's close, she’s been so close for far too long.

"Good girl." You kiss her forehead, her nose, her dimples, something sweet amongst the depravity.

"Am I?" Chaewon's question is hopeful, so disastrously erotic, her voice a breathy whisper. There's the beginnings of a storm in her eyes, the first hints painting her features in a way that's so vulnerable, that tells you the only thing holding her back from collapsing is your explicit approval.

"Yes, Chae," you murmur against her ear, nibbling gently, your fingers melting inside her folds. "You're being such a good girl for me."

"Th-thank you," she manages shaky words, barely keeping it together, at the mercy of the quickening of your fingers, the circling of your thumb, the movements of your hand, helping her climb towards that wonderful peak. "Oh my God—how are you—how is this—so—fuck—fuck—"

"Good girls deserve a reward." You're roughly kissing into her collarbone, feeling her pulse hammering under your lips—you want to leave a mark on her body, something for her to remember this by—something to remind her how completely she came apart for you. "Cum for me—cum now—cum on my fingers. Show me how much you want it—how much you love it."

"Please," Chaewon's desperate, so desperate, trying to do something, anything, everything that she can to convince you to let her fall apart. "I love how you touch me—just—please—I’m so close—"

She’s on fire, there’s too much pressure—your fingers work inside her, undoing a knot of their own making—unravelling that slutty ache inside your girlfriend—your good girl—fucking her and stretching her, making her eyes roll to the back of her head and her mouth to drop open in a silent scream.

"So good—so fucking good—just like that—mmmm-MMMPH!"

You breathe it in—your mouth on hers, her cries dying in your throat—feeling her tighten, tense, release around your hand as her small, tight frame—her whole, amazing body—overwhelmed by just three fingers and a thumb.

It takes her like an eruption, a natural disaster—dancing along her skin, to her hips, her thighs, her ribs, her breasts—turning her into a shivering mess, leaving her limp beneath you.

"Fuh—"

You release her lips, watching her pant and quiver, her chest heave, her body spasm from the aftershocks of her climax.

Your hand is drowned in her heat, her juices sticking to your skin as you slowly draw your fingers out of her, glistening in the soft light of the room.

"Here, have a taste." You lift your hand to her face, tracing your sticky fingers along the seam of her mouth, smearing her juices over her soft, parted lips.

Chaewon's tongue darts out, welcoming your digits as you push inside her mouth. She sucks greedily, her tongue lapping your fingertips—she can't get enough of the taste of herself on you.

"Good girl," you say again, and again—she shivers.

The tremors of her orgasm start to fade, and you pull your fingers from her mouth—no longer lathered in her cum, but shiny with her spit.

You straighten, leaning back so you're on your knees, between Chaewon's spread legs. Her eyes follow your hand as it leaves her wrist, traveling up to the neck of your shirt, pulling it off your head and reuniting it with the growing pile of discarded clothing.

Her gaze wanders down, down your body, landing at your waist, at your pants, painfully stretching over your erection.

"Take it out for me, Chae," you instruct, unnecessarily—she's already there, licking her lips, quick at work. Practiced fingers pull down your sweatpants and set your cock free, letting it spring into view, hard and heavy, landing directly on her lips.

But she doesn't get the chance to take it in her mouth, to swirl her tongue around the tip and suck you like she's so clearly been dying to—you have her by the hair before she can dive on your cock, to take it down her throat. It's harsh, it's sudden, it elicits a startled groan from her throat—but it makes it clear that this is not going to be the usual 'good little girl' kind of night.

"No," is all you have for her. You're on the edge—you've been on the edge ever since she pleaded for you—you’re done with the foreplay; you're done with the teasing. Fucking Chaewon senseless. That’s all there is now—fucking her hard and fast.

You pull her up by her hair and your mouth is back on hers, pushing and pulling, tongue in her throat, tasting her—tasting her nectar on her lips—dominating her, her own tongue dancing and wrapping around yours, her teeth grazing your bottom lip.

Your other hand finds its way to her chest, squeezing her breast in your palm, feeling the weight of it, the softness of her skin, the hardened peak of her nipple against your palm. There's not enough time—you want to shove your face between them, taste her nipples, feel them roll between your teeth, give them the attention they deserve.

But instead, you're pulling back on her hair again, gritting your teeth. "Turn around. Bend over."

There's no hesitation, no protest from her—Chaewon's a good girl, and good girls do as they’re told. She rolls onto her hands and knees, her ass in the air—she's presenting herself to you: an offering, a prize, a fucking goddess on a platter. Her spine arches as she looks back at you over her shoulder, the soft curve of her cheeks begging for you to take it.

You startle her, taking her by the hips, pulling her back to you so that when you lean in, your mouth is pressed to her ear, and your cock is twitching against the waiting, wanting, folds of her lower lips. "I'm going to make you feel it," you whisper. "Every part of you, understand?"

Chaewon nods, but it's not enough—not for what you have in store.

"I don't just want a nod, I want to hear you say it. I want you to tell me how good it feels while I'm fucking you—I want to hear it all."

"O-Okay.” She’s tense, you can see it, like a coil winded up in her body, but she's eager, so fucking eager, been waiting for this for far too long—"make me scream for you—FUCK!"

Chaewon's true to her word—she shrieks as you bury yourself deep inside her, is undone by your cock—as ready and wet as she is for you, she's still so incredibly tight, needing you to stretch her, fill her, own her.

But it's not enough—you’re not going to ease her into this, to the pleasure ripping through your bodies, not going to let this moment breathe.

As soon as you've sunk into her, given her every inch that her needy little pussy could take, you're backing up, sliding your stained shaft right out of her cunt before slamming back forward.

She's crying out, making barely intelligible sounds, as you’re digging your fingers into that tiny waist, holding her by her hips as you crash into her, feeling it all—the unfathomable heat, the tightness, the wetness, the way she clenches around you with each thrust—again and again and again.

"Words, Chae," you remind her, needing more from than just the sounds of her sweet, sweet agony, and the slapping of your hips against her ass cheeks. "I want words."

"Y-yes—fuh—fuck—YES!" One-syllable noises are all that Chaewon can manage to start—all you can fuck out of her—but with each thrust, she's getting better, getting bolder. "It feels so good, so hard, so big—God, so deep—you've never—I've never been fucked like this…"

"More." It's addictive, hearing her talk like this, knowing every word that comes out of her mouth is the absolute fucking truth—the proof is in how she's shaking beneath you, how she drips around you, how her fingers claw into the sheets, trying her best to hold on. “Tell me more.”

"Y-you're going so fast—so fucking hard!" Mindless, stream-of-consciousness, fuck-drunk ramblings spill from her lips—she's begging, cooing, whimpering as you mercilessly fuck her, making her divine tits swing below her, her ass ripple with each collision. "Making me so wet—making me so fucking wet—I can't even—can't think straight—just your cock—your fucking cock!"

"This is what you wanted, isn't it Chae?" You hiss, over the sounds of the headboard slamming against the wall, the bed creaking beneath you, and her moans—oh those moans. "This is how I'm going to fuck you from now on—however I want, wherever I want, whenever I want."

"Yes-yes—this is what I want—what I fucking need. To be fucked like this—pounded—broken—so fucking sensitive." The words come so easily from her lips, straight from the pleasure centres of her brains and to your ears. "I deserve this—I've been so good—haven't I? Aren't I your good girl—please tell me I'm your good girl—please?"

"You're my good girl, Chae, you’re my perfect little slut," you acquiesce, and she cries out in relief, her body shaking under the weight of your words—she leans into your touch, your control, your cock. "And good girls get what they fucking deserve."

Another thrust has Chaewon bowing her head down to offer more of herself to you, to give you a better angle to pump her harder, deeper, laying her cheek on the bed and turning her face so you can see that blissful grin on her face, see her lips mouth your name like a prayer.

It's so perfect—she's so fucking perfect—so impossibly tight, a ridiculously wet dream of a cunt—"all yours, all yours"—so aching for you to fuck her straight into the mattress—"I can't take it"—so needy for you—"use me"—so hungry for you—"more—please—I need it."

You're giving in—giving long, intense strokes—you're consumed by it, by her, by how every lovely curve and tensed muscle of her immaculate body is doing its best to take you, to please you, to give you a fraction of the ecstasy that’s breaking her into a million tiny, euphoric pieces.

"God, I love it—love your cock—pounding me—fucking me—hurting me—I can't even think—GOD!" She's doing her best to form coherent sentences, but it's futile, she's slipping—you're not even sure if she's aware of what she's even saying anymore—it's just raw, unfiltered need.

This is going to be a problem—you're never going to be able to go back. Not when she's so needy for you—so needy to be filled by you, so needy to hear your praise as she takes your cock, so full of nothing but words of thanks for how roughly you're treating her, how you're completely ruining her—"thank you—thank you—thank you for fucking me so good."

And then you're falling, a deep, sharp thrust and you’ve sent her forward—her knees give in first, her elbows buckle. She's taking you with her, pulling you by the cock still lodged deep in her cunt. You catch yourself before your face hits the bed, one hand on the mattress, the other still wrapped around her waist.

It does little to slow you down—just gives you a better vantage point to fuck her deeper into the mattress—"yes—yes—fuck—fuck—" —to run your hand up her body and seize her by her tits, so ripe and full and yours to squeeze and twist and tease— "touch me—hurt me—it's all yours—all fucking yours."

And you do—oh, you do—you take her by the tits, feeling the soft flesh of her breasts give way to your grip, roll her nipple between your thumb and forefinger—so sensitive, so responsive. She's lost in it, so happy in the pain and pleasure of your touch—you're leaving another mark—and she cries, she curses, she clenches around you, she joins her hand over yours and pushes you for more, needing more of the loving sting you're giving her.

She’s pulsing on your shaft—walls tightening and quivering—she's so close, so fucking close to cumming—and your body responds, your cock thickens, your strokes powerful, purposeful. "I can't—I can't—baby, please—please—please—"

"You're going to cum for me now, aren't you?" You ask, like it's a question, like you can't see the tension building in her body, can’t see how she's holding her breath and gritting her teeth—it's so fucking obvious she's about to explode.

"Yes—yes—I'm about to—about to—FUCK! I can't fucking take this anymore!"

You take her by the throat—twisting her face so you can see it—you need to see it—need to see the moment she breaks for you. "Look at me," you demand—her eyes rolling up to meet yours, all teary and flawless and beautiful— "look at me when I make you cum."

"God yesssss," Chaewon gurgles, shivers, quakes, "please—please—I'm cumming—I'm cumming— I'm cumming on your fucking cock—OH FUCK!"

Your name leaves her lips in a long, symphonic, slurred cry—and she cums—not in that lovely, beautiful way you've seen her orgasm dozens of times before—this is overpowering, consuming, violent—a million tiny deaths—one magnum opus—sculpted by the Gods and utterly ruined in all ways possible, reduced once again to nothing but a mess of quivers and mewls and moans—pushed over the edge by your cock, forcing her to gush down her thighs.

She's clenching and wringing and doing everything she can to bring you with her—"God—so fucking good—I’m cumming so hard—GOD! I just need—I want it—please give it—give me your cum—fill me with it—do whatever you want to me just give it to me!"

Her eyes are open again—she's inflicted with the same curse as you—she needs to see it, see the look in your eyes as you fill her, finally claim her in her entirety as yours, finally join and become undone in the same preciously brutal ways.

"Keeeep going—cum in me—cum in me—" It’s becoming a mantra now—three short words—as if there was any other option, as if she had any choice. As much as you want to hold on, to drag this out, to savour every second of this chaos—fucking her silly, viciously, tight pussy choking your cock, she won't stop, refuses to— "cum in me—cum in me—cum in me -"

"You want it? You need it? Does your cunt need my cum?"

"Y-yes, please—fuck—fill me up—fuck me up—fill—me—fucking—PLEASE!"

She's a vision, a goddess, she's yours, she's—"Fuck, Chae, god-fucking-take-it!"—she's taking your cum like the fucking slut she is.

God, it feels dizzying, a high so perfect it must be illegal, making your vision dark and your ears ring—the only thing tethering you to the Earth itself is the feeling of her burning hot cunt, the cunt you're fucking like its only purpose in this world is to make your cock feel good.

You’re speeding towards the final stretch now—hard and rough and somehow lasting forever but ending far too soon. Nothing matters except for her exceptionally tight hole, taking you—all of you, everything you have—and you’re clinging onto her—her tits, her throat—you’re bruising and choking her, your body crushing her into the bed, and she's still screaming your fucking name like she's so damn grateful to you for treating her like she deserves.

And then, you let go.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck, baby, oh my fucking God," Chaewon groans, "It's so much—you're filling me up— oh, fuck, oh, fuck, OH FUCK!"

It’s a car crash, a pressure valve opening, it’s too fucking much—you can’t hold back—she can’t possibly take anymore.

It burns through you both—the first, the second, the third—rope after rope after rope of cum firing into her sore, well-fucked cunt, filling it completely to the brim. All the lust, all the tension, everything, all at once, released at once in a tidal wave of white into Chaewon's swollen, sopping wet pussy.

“SO GOOD—SO FUCKING FULL!”

One final thrust—one shared cry—like nothing you’ve ever felt before—like you’re being torn apart and reassembled, piece by piece—and you collapse into her, your bodies melting into one— boneless and shaking in the aftermath of it all.

Chaewon’s cumdump of a pussy is still twitching around you—still begging for more, milking your cock even though it’s already given everything it can, every drop it has—making it impossible for you to pull out without feeling like you're leaving a part of yourself behind.

Eventually—when the numbness subsides and you're able to move again—you slide off her, onto your side, slipping your spent cock out of her well-fucked pussy. It's an image that you burn into core of your brain—her ass in the air, your cum dripping from her, the puddle of you leaking from her glistening folds and pooling on your ruined bedsheets.

"So good... so good..." Chaewon's slurring, drifting—fucked out of consciousness—already lost in some blissful, post-orgasmic dream.

That's where you follow her, exhaustion seeping into every bone in your body, and you're slipping down, down and away into that heavenly oblivion.

-

When you awake, Chaewon's curled into you—your chest is her pillow, your arms her blanket. She's still (thankfully) naked—your cum drying on her thighs, and she's awake, lazily drawing circles with her finger around your heartbeat.

"Hey," you say, kissing the top of her head, getting her attention.

She looks up at you—God, she's so fucking beautiful—a soft smile on her lips. "Hi."

"That was..." You dare to start, but the words catch in your throat.

"Perfect," Chaewon finishes for you, "so fucking perfect."

"Are you sure? I got lost in the moment there, Chae, I—" The ghost of an apology is on your lips, but Chaewon's eyes widen, and she slaps a hand over your mouth.

"Don't," Chaewon stops you, "don't ruin it with an apology. I wanted that. Needed it. More than I thought, I guess. It was amazing."

You look down at her, so small in your arms, searching her face for any hint of doubt or regret, but all you can find is perfect contentment.

And she's smiling, so sweetly, so happily. So Chaewon. The slutty cum dumpster, the adorable princess—the woman of your dreams.

She’s giggling still, tracing wider patterns on your chest, her breath warm against your skin. "You were incredible," she presses her nose into your neck and inhales deeply. "I never knew you had that in you."

"I didn't either," you admit, stroking her hair, looping strands between your fingers. "I had no idea how much I'd like it—how good it would feel. I mean I love getting to hold you like this—hugging you and kissing you, but—"

"It's nice to not have to treat me like I'm made of glass, isn't it?" She finishes. A beat passes, before Chaewon tables her final request. "You know, that thing you called me, while we were..."

Her voice trails off, and she's blushing now—the kind of blush that makes you want to kiss her, kiss it off her cheeks, kiss her until she's blushing all over again. "I think I called you a lot of things that probably shouldn't be repeated outside of this room." You say, and she’s laughing, slapping your chest lightly.

"You know what I'm talking about," she says. "Call me it again. Please? Can you?"

You laugh, bending down so you can steal a kiss—as light and sweet as she is—but it’s still far, far shorter than you'd like.

She's pouting, doe-eyes wide and hopeful—so Goddamn adorable—and you can't resist, after all—it's always best to give your girlfriend exactly what she wants.

"My good girl," you murmur into her ear, "my perfect little slut."